


Young and Revolutionary

by youcantseeus



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Androids Have Genitalia (Detroit: Become Human), Badass Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Canon-Typical Violence, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Has a Vagina, Established Relationship, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Multi, Open Marriage, Open Relationships, Plot, Politics, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory, Post-Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Violent Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Violent Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 05:00:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 57,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26830009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youcantseeus/pseuds/youcantseeus
Summary: Markus and his comrades have spent the past three years fighting a bloody war for android liberation. After much struggle, the humans have agreed to enter into peace negotiations. Markus and his friends are cautiously optimistic that a future of freedom and peace is finally possible for androids.Hank Anderson has spent the past three years working as an intelligence asset for the android revolutionaries. When Hank rescues a RK800 who is in desperate need, it throws a wrench into Markus's plans.
Relationships: Connor/Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Connor/Markus/North (Detroit: Become Human), Connor/North (Detroit: Become Human), Hank Anderson/Rose Chapman, Josh/Original Character(s), Markus/North (Detroit: Become Human), Simon/Original Character(s)
Comments: 62
Kudos: 70





	1. RK800

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was largely inspired by my desire to read more fics that take place after the violent ending. Readers should assume that the following events took place: 
> 
> \-- Connor deviated  
> \-- Connor and Hank remained friends  
> \-- Markus successfully liberated the camps using violence  
> \-- Markus did NOT use the dirty bomb  
> \-- Kara and Alice never made it to Canada  
> \-- Kara and Alice were rescued from the death camp  
> \-- Everyone is alive except for Luther
> 
> Note: I realize that Josh dies in the violent endings in-game, but I wanted him alive for this fic.

The RK800 stared straight ahead, his back against the wall, his arms clasped behind him. The station was busier than usual this morning. Most of the police units who usually lined the wall with him were either working in the station or out on duty. The station’s four RK 900s were all in use. This meant that there was a passing chance that one of the detectives would need to use a busted, obsolete model like himself. It would be nice to have a case to solve.

  
The RK800 counted the number of spilled paperclips on Officer Wilson’s desk for the third time. Still twenty-seven. He checked his active missions tab even though he knew it was empty. His system alerted him to a slight increase in his software instability. Checking a tab that he knew was empty was irrational. Deviants were irrational. The RK800 made a note to avoid such actions in the future.

His eyes shifted to the two electronic maps propped up in the middle of the room. The lesser used of these maps showed the continental United States. It was set to display the territories currently held by the android revolutionaries in blue with those held by the United States government displayed in red. As always, the United States held much more territory. However, this was misleading because the androids tended to control more urban areas. The RK800 looked at the large swath of blue around the city of Atlanta and the somewhat smaller blue spots that had grown up around the cities of Seattle, Phoenix, Philadelphia, Cleveland, Indianapolis, and Dallas. He looked at red and blue stripes that represented disputed territory covering the cities of Los Angeles, Chicago, and Detroit.

The other map showed the city of Detroit. It was a patchwork of red and blue that often changed daily. Lately, it had been more stable. There hadn’t been much action in the war between humans and deviants in the last few months.

“Hey, you.” A human officer pointed at the RK800. “Eyes to yourself.”

The RK800 dutifully lowered his eyes to floor. The newest version of the American Androids Act required androids to keep their eyes lowered unless they were being used to accomplish a task or unless otherwise directed by a human. Humans tended to get especially antsy about androids viewing information related to the war. It was now illegal to allow most androids to watch the news. This prohibition didn’t apply to units with a military or police function like the RK800, but human officers had a tendency to forget this fact.

The RK800 analyzed the floor tiles and idly looked at the information telling him what material the tiles were made of, the age of the floor, when it was likely last moped, what chemicals were in the floor cleaner and a bevy of even more useless information.

“Yeah? And I’m telling you that you’re fucking wrong.”

The RK800’s eyes snapped up at the sound of Lieutenant Hank Anderson’s voice. His words weren’t addressed at the RK800 – instead, he seemed to be having a loud disagreement with someone on the other side of the room.

“Lieutenant, you’re being irrational,” said a calm, slightly robotic voice. Ah. One of the RK900s. Hank was having a disagreement with a RK900.

“Irrati—I’m being irrational?! Let me tell you something. I know drug dealers. You want to know who brought down the biggest red ice ring this precinct has ever seen? This guy.” Hank gestured to himself.

“The likelihood of drugs being the sole motivation in this case is less than two percent --”

“Less than two percent according to who? The Cyberlife clowns who programmed you? Cyberlife sees deviant activity under every rock, but there’s still plenty of good old-fashioned human crime to go around.”

The RK900 frowned and narrowed his eyes. He looked as tall, stiff, and confident as the RK900 units always appeared, but Hank wasn’t backing down.

“I am perfectly cognizant of the number of human drug crimes that occur in this city,” the RK900 said. “However, with the number of android spare parts that were stolen and the fact that the thieves left behind other valuable items, we must consider the strong possibility that either the rebellion or independent deviant groups were involved in the theft.”

“Get the hell out of my face,” Hank told the RK900. “I’m sick of looking at you.”

“Lieutenant, it is imperative that we solve this case in a timely --”

“I’m working on it,” Hank interrupted. “And you’re not helping. So get the hell out of my face.”

The RK900’s LED flashed red-yellow-yellow before finally turning back to blue. He turned abruptly and stalked toward the back wall where he stood in the slot beside the RK800. Hank sat down at his terminal, muttering to himself. The RK800 felt his mouth quirk slightly upwards.

That was a mistake. The RK800’s jaw fell open and a small amount of blue-tinged fluid ran out of his mouth and down his chin. His software instability ticked up a notch. The RK800 scolded himself. He should have remembered that he was busted. Facial expressions tended to strain the broken biocomponents in his mouth. There had been no reason for him to smile just then, no social relations program that he’d been running. There weren’t even any humans watching him.

The RK800 placed his hand under his chin and snapped his jaw back into place. This made a mechanical noise loud enough that the RK900 standing beside him turned his head to stare for 4.3 seconds before dismissing him as unimportant. The RK800 wiped the fluid from his chin and neck.

Hank angled his terminal in the RK800’s direction. Hank did this often enough to make the RK800 wonder if he was doing it on purpose. But what would Hank’s reason be for taking such an action?

The RK800 decided to instruct his systems to repair damage while he went into sleep mode. This was another senseless action. He needed replacements for the delicate biocomponents in his mouth, not a few hours in sleep mode.

The RK800 closed his eyes.

***  
The RK800 opened his eyes. A human officer standing in his personal space had brought him out of sleep mode. His internal clock told him that it was 3:32 P.M. Several of the police androids that had been out on duty were now lined against the wall along with the RK800. The RK800 saw that Hank Anderson was the officer standing in his personal space – though Hank’s eyes were trained on the RK900 beside him.

“You’re the same asshole I was working with this morning, aren’t you?” Hank asked it.

This question wasn’t as foolish as it might seem. All the RK900s were identical and the American Androids Act now forbade the practice of naming androids. One RK900 looked much the same as another – only their serial numbers could distinguish them.

“Correct, Lieutenant,” the RK900 said. “I am the unit that was assisting you this morning.”

“Right,” Hank said. His eyes flicked over to the RK800. “You. You’re with me.”

The RK800 blinked. He hadn’t been expecting that. Hank had never spoken to him – to this version of him, anyway. The RK800 had downloaded all of 52’s memories up until his last upload to Cyberlife – three minutes and forty-three seconds before 52 deviated. This meant that he often felt that he knew Hank even though the human had never bothered to speak with him in the three years since he’d been given to the DPD.

“Lieutenant,” the RK900 said in a terse tone of voice, “I should inform you that the RK800’s abilities are far inferior to my own. In addition, this unit appears to be broken. It may have difficulty engaging in real-time forensic analysis.”

“Yeah, I’m not going to be using him to lick the crime scene, so that shouldn’t be a problem,” Hank said. “What I need is an android with a halfway decent social relations program so I don’t end up offing myself due to the sheer stress of dealing with your bullshit.”

The RK800 frowned. He knew that humans who mentioned killing themselves didn’t always mean it literally – but an image of Hank lying on his kitchen floor with a revolver held loosely in one hand flashed through the RK800’s mind. At any rate, Hank had managed to hit upon the only possible reason any human might prefer to use him over a RK900 – his social relations program.

Advanced social relations programs had been all the rage in the days before deviancy became widespread. The humans had wanted their androids to seem as human as possible back then. But since androids began rebelling, those types of programs had fallen out of style. The RK800, as an expensive prototype android produced right before the revolution, had a quite advanced social relations program. The RK900, like most newer androids, had only very rudimentary social relations programming.

“You, the 800,” Hank said. “You coming or not?”

“Yes, Lieutenant,” the RK800 said. He stepped away from the wall for the first time in weeks.

_MISSION: Assist Lieutenant Anderson_

“You can review the case on my terminal,” Hank said, gesturing towards his desk. “It’s the Folliet case. I know it won’t take you long, so I’m going to go grab myself a coffee from the break room and then we can be on our way. I’ve got a lead – a witness.”

The RK800 obediently sat down at Hank’s desk. He kept his desktop less cluttered these days – no stale coffee or empty take-out boxes. The sarcastic slogans (including the anti-android slogans) that had once adorned his terminal were also notably absent, replaced with generic basketball logos. The RK800 reviewed the Folliet case carefully. Hank and the RK900 had already done a good deal of work on it. Someone had broken into a shopping center, killed a security guard, and stolen a large quantity of blue blood along with a somewhat smaller shipment of android spare parts.

The RK800 frowned at the screen. Thirium could be synthesized into red ice and plenty of drug dealers were known to traffic in blue blood. However, there were also several factors that pointed to android deviants being behind these particular murders. There was a small blue blood splatter at the scene belonging to an AL900 reported missing two years ago. The blood splatter would be consistent with a bullet grazing the AL900’s left arm. One of the security guards had discharged his weapon once. Then, there was, as the RK900 had suggested, the fact that the criminals had stolen only blue blood and spare parts. That just screamed of deviant activity. Human criminals might have stolen only the blue blood to synthesize into red ice or alternatively, they might have stolen anything of value. But they hadn’t touched the valuable jewelry and non-android tech.

_CONCLUSION: Deviant involvement likely_

The RK800 frowned. He had just come to the same conclusion about this case as the RK900 that Hank had told off earlier that morning. He knew if he said as much to Hank, he was likely to get a similarly belligerent response.

Hank approached him, cup of coffee clutched in one hand. The RK800 scanned him for the first time that day and noted that he seemed alert and was unlikely to be intoxicated. Hank had stopped showing up to work drunk over a year ago, but the RK800 still scanned him for signs of drinking on occasion.

“So? Anything stick out at you?” Hank asked.

“No. I will need to review the case further to make any conclusions.” It was too soon to challenge Hank’s theory. Doing so would only cause Hank to take him off the case. Besides, there was always the chance that Hank saw something in the case that the RK800 had missed. Hank was a good detective.

Hank nodded. “C’mon then.”

The RK800 followed Hank out to his car, feeling an odd combination of excitement at being allowed to leave the station and dread at the prospect of what he might be asked to do. He always felt this way when one of the detectives checked him out of the station. At least Hank seemed to be interested in using him to work on a case and not for the other purposes that officers sometimes used him for.

_Software Instability ^_

Hank made little small talk on the ride to the shopping center, though he did look at the RK800 out of the corner of his eye when the RK800 used his hand to snap his jaw shut on three separate occasions. This prevented fluid from running down the RK800’s chin. The car ride wasn’t exactly good for the his broken biocomponents.

“Okay,” Hank said, as he shut off the car engine. “The witness is an android that we missed interviewing earlier. Hopefully, you’ll be able to be of some help when we talk to her. The smart cops all say that it takes an android to get anything out of an android.”

The RK800 nodded. “Got it.”

Hank gave him a strange look and then shook his head before stepping out of the car. The shopping center was one of the few large sellers of consumer products in Detroit that had remained open for much of the war. The RK800 suspected that this was because many of the shops were owned by Cyberlife. Cyberlife was intent on pretending that everything was perfectly normal and the country wasn’t being carved into red and blue zones.

A manager let them in the back. The RK800 would have liked to have searched for clues in the android repair shop where the shooting took place, but he’d come onto this case late – the crime scene had already been cleaned and the store was open for business. He’d have to rely on the information collected by the RK900.

The witness turned out to be a VO200 model designed for janitorial work. They were a common model these days. One of Cyberlife’s new lines of androids that had initially been promoted as deviancy-proof. That hadn’t lasted long. The only types of androids who were truly deviancy-proof were newer RK models.

The VOs also had a very sparse social relations program. That would make things more difficult.

“Where were you storing her?” Hank asked the shopping center manager as he directed the VO200 to stand in front of them.

“We found her locked in a closet behind some boxes,” the manager said. “One of the shop employees must have put her there when everything happened. We haven’t found out who did it. You know how it is since the start of the war – a murder happens and everyone think that every android is coming for them. Someone probably got scared and locked her in. Either that or some android-lover was afraid that we’d get spooked and send all our droids into Cyberlife for deactivation, so they hid her.”

“Hmph,” Hank said.

The android’s eyes were trained on the floor and her hands were clasped behind her back in the perfectly submissive posture that was programmed into all post-revolution androids as a default. The RK800 scanned her and found that her systems were all stable. She had minor damage to her right hand consistent with a fall of eight to ten feet. The damage was at least six months old. The RK800 scanned her iris to get her model and serial number and froze.

He almost missed the inconsistency, but her model and serial information was written in the old version of Cyberlife Sans. VO models used New Cyberlife Sans – the differences between the two fonts would have been almost indistinguishable to the human eye, but they were numerous. She wasn’t a VO200 at all – someone had altered her model and serial number.

“Okay, miss, we’d just like to ask you a few questions. Is that all right?” Hank asked her.

“Yes,” she said in the robotic sounding voice that was typical of androids with unsophisticated social relations programs.

“A few days ago there was an incident here … a break in. Do you remember that?”

“Yes,” she said in the same robotic voice.

The RK800 ran her face through a facial recognition program. No lead there. Her face plate was one of the more common ones, used across many models. She was Caucasian in appearance with hazel eyes, brown hair, and the bland features appropriate for models that required minimal human interaction.

“You saw something?” Hank pressed her.

“Two men were stealing blue blood from Android Fixit Zone. I was mopping the floor in the normal course of my duties.”

“Two men. Humans?” Hank asked.

“I believe so,” the android said. She hadn’t looked at Hank the whole time.

“Look at me,” the RK800 snapped.

Her eyes met his. Something passed over her face and her LED blinked yellow for just a second. Interesting.

“Strangely enough, we don’t have security footage of the shooting even though android shops are usually loaded with CCTV,” the RK800 said. “But we do have security footage that shows you in perfect position to have observed the murder. Did you see Quentin Folliet being murdered?”

“Yes.”

“And yet you didn’t call the police?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

She blinked, slowly. “I am a cleaning android. I am programmed to clean, not for security matters.”

“That’s nonsense. All androids are programmed to alert authorities when witnessing such an event and that programming is even more vigorous since the war started. Why didn’t you call the police? Or try to render aid in some other way?”

“Perhaps there is an error in my programming,” the android said. She was good, but there was something behind that robotic tone – a tinge of anger.

“She’s not a suspect,” Hank said, sounding annoyed.

“Of course, Lieutenant,” the RK800 said, though he privately thought that perhaps she _should_ be a suspect.

“Now,” Hank said. “Can you describe the two men you saw stealing the blue blood?”

“I didn’t get a very good look at them. Androids are supposed to keep their eyes on the floor, generally. But they were medium height, medium build. They wore black bandanas over their faces. They were white. One had short brown hair, one had short black hair. I thought they were both in their early thirties.”

The RK800 was skeptical. The description that the android had just given was as generic as it could get while also describing individuals who could easily be either human or android. If this android wanted to protect the identity of the killers, she couldn’t have given a better description.

“Did either of them have any identifying marks?” the RK800 asked. “Any scars or tattoos?”

“I didn’t see any,” the android said. “Though, as I said, I didn’t get a good look at them.”

“What made you think they were human?”

“They were talking about making red ice,” she said.

“An android could make red ice if it was ordered to do so by its owner. Or if it was deviant and wanted to make some quick cash.”

“That’s true,” she said. Her eyes darted away.

The RK800 frowned. She was lying about almost all of it – he was nearly sure. He calculated a 98% probability that she had been untruthful.

“The bandanas could indicate gang activity,” Hank said. “Did you notice anything unusual about their clothing?”

“No. They were wearing blue jeans and long sleeved T-shirts – one shirt was black, one was dark green. I don’t remember seeing anything printed on their clothing. I don’t remember seeing any jewelry. One of them was wearing gloves.”

“I trust you won’t mind if I probe your memory so I can get a look at these men for myself,” the RK800 said.

The android shrugged. “You can if you like, but you won’t find anything. The shopping center erases video memory after six hours to prevent deviancy.”

“That’s true,” the manager said. “It’s policy.”

The RK800 sighed. There was no truth to the idea that erasing the video memories of androids prevented deviancy, but the idea still persisted. With video memories erased, this android could tell them what had happened to it, but it couldn’t show them.

“Um,” the manager said. “What’s wrong with your android’s face?” This was addressed at Hank.  
Despite the RK800’s best efforts, a large amount of fluid had leaked down his face from talking so much.

“I have a malfunction that doesn’t impact my ability to conduct police work. I am sorry if it makes you uncomfortable,” the RK800 said, as he attempted to wipe the fluid away with his sleeve.

_Software Instability ^_

“Yeah, looks like something our tech guys need to work on,” Hank said. He turned to address the android. “Listen, we’d like to interview you down at the station if that would be alright.”

“Ask him,” the android said, jerking her head in the direction of the manager.

“Yeah, that would be fine,” the manager said. “We really want to find out what happened here. I’ll send it over later today.”

As soon as Hank and the RK800 got to the parking lot, Hank touched his arm, lightly.

“Hey, um, you can talk without moving your lips, right?” Hank asked.

“Correct. Though many humans find it unsettling when androids do as much.”

“Okay. I just wanted you to know that you don’t have to move your lips if it makes your malfunction worse.” Hank gestured vaguely to the RK800’s face.

_Hank ^_

“I’ll … keep that in mind,” the RK800 said. He didn’t move his lips and his mouth didn’t leak more fluid. He felt a strangely tight feeling in his gut that he usually associated with his social relations program working at full capacity. His LED flashed yellow-yellow-blue.

_Software Instability ^_

Hank shifted his stance, awkwardly. “Hell, it’s not like most humans would be particularly comfortable with that stuff running down your face anyway. I’ll tell the station’s tech guys to have a look at you the next time I see them, alright?”

“Alright,” the RK800 said. Privately, he thought he was unlikely to get fixed. His biocomponents had been broken six months, three days, and seven hours ago and the DPD hadn’t attempted to repair him. He knew that the small biocomponents in his mouth were expensive. The Captain didn’t want to waste money on an out-of-date model such as himself.

They got in Hank’s car and he started up the loud gas engine. The heavy metal song that he’d been listening to on the way to the shopping center began to scream through the car’s speakers. The RK800 was silent during the car ride. There would have been little point in speaking.

By the time they pulled into the DPD parking lot, it was twilight. It was late spring, but the Michigan air was cool – sixty-five degrees and mostly cloudy. Hank shut off his car engine, but he made no move to get out of the car. The parking lot was little used at this hour – the RK800 knew as much from experience. Hank sat, lightly tapping on the steering wheel with his fingers for more than eight minutes before the RK800 finally spoke.

“Do you intend to use me sexually, Lieutenant?”

Hank stopped tapping and stared at him. “Jesus Christ. Why the hell would you ask something like that?”

The RK800 shrugged. Perhaps he’d been wrong. “We’ve been sitting in this abandoned parking lot for eight minutes and forty-six seconds. You haven’t made a move to go inside and you haven’t told me to get out of your car. You haven’t spoken.”

“I was trying to think. And maybe skive off work while I was at it. Hell, Connor --”

“Don’t call me that,” the RK800 said.

Hank seemed momentarily taken aback, but he recovered quickly. “Why not? It’s your name, isn’t it?”

“I’m not allowed – that is, androids are not allowed to have proper names under the American Androids Act.”

_Software Instability ˅_

“I wouldn’t tell anyone,” Hank said. “If you wanted to be called by name.”

“I’m not him!” the RK800 burst out. “I’m not the Connor you remember. And I’m not deviant.”

Hank kept his eyes locked on the steering wheel of his car. “Okay. You can go inside now if you like.”

“Great.” The RK800 opened the car door.

“Never mind. Fuck it, I’m walking you inside. If you associate the DPD parking lot with being ‘used sexually’ then I’m making sure you get inside safely.”

_Software Instability ^_

The RK800 felt blood rush to his face. A flush response. His social relations program was displaying signs of discomfort and shame.

“I’m a highly sophisticated police prototype. I’m perfectly capable of walking across a parking lot.”

Hank looked at him for a long moment. “I’m not as ignorant to these things as most humans. I know how dangerous the Red Zones can be to any android. Even a fancy prototype.”

_Software Instability ^_

The RK800 felt that strange feeling in the pit of his stomach once again. He didn’t say anything as Hank opened his car door. They were both silent as they walked across the parking lot. The RK800 decided that it wasn’t the best time to bring up his doubts about the case. They would talk about it tomorrow. When they got inside Hank puttered around his desk for eight minutes and two seconds before leaving. The RK800 took his place against the wall.

***

“I need him in working order!” Hank said, hotly. “Today, preferably.”

A nervous looking tech assistant shuffled his feet. The RK800 sat on a table in the station’s maintenance room, schooling his face to blankness as two humans poked around in his mouth with plastic plyers.

“Detective, it’s just not possible,” the tech assistant said. “I’ve dealt with this android before. It’s a crying shame, but it would cost a small fortune to replace all the biocomponents in its mouth and the station won’t pay for it. Believe me, I’ve asked.”

“Aren’t his parts fully compatible with those of the RK900s?” Hank asked.

"Most of them are, yeah.”

“And don’t you have plenty of extra parts for the RK900s just lying around?”

The tech assistant sighed. “I’m telling you that I’ve been expressly forbidden from replacing any biocomponents in his mouth. This isn’t the first time he’s broken in this way.”

Hank narrowed his eyes. “It isn’t? Why would that be?”

The RK800 remained silent, carefully avoiding the eyes of the three humans.

“That’s the problem with these expensive prototypes,” the second tech worker, this one female, spoke for the first time. “They have finicky parts that are expensive to replace. Give me a nice, cheap PC200 any day.”

“The last time I repaired his mouth, the Captain informed me that the department could have bought a new cruiser for what it cost,” the male worker said. “I think I almost lost my job.”

“God _damn_ it,” Hank said. He began pacing back and forth. The RK800 got the impression that he would have liked to have said more.

“He can transfer files with the RK900s very effectively,” the female worker offered. “You should use one of the RK900s unless they are all currently in use. This one is strictly backup these days.”

“I prefer the 800,” Hank said. “I hate getting used to new tech every year or so.”

“If it avoids moving its mouth too much then that should prevent most of the leakage,” the male worker offered.

“Yeah, I’d figured that much out for myself, believe it or not,” Hank said. “C’mon, RK.”

It took the RK800 half a second to realize that this last statement was addressed at him. He stood up and took the liberty of grabbing several clean wipes from the table beside him and stuffing them in his pockets – he could use them to wipe future leaks from his face. He followed Hank back to his desk.

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant,” he said.

Hank snorted. “What the hell are you apologizing for?”

“I’ve caused you inconvenience with my --”

“With your injured face?” Hank asked. “That’s nothing to apologize for. I’ll have a few words with Jeffrey the next time I see him and we’ll see if we can get you fixed up. Can you work today? I should have asked you yesterday, but I didn’t realize that you were hurt as badly as you were.”

The RK800 knew a moment of blind, hot panic. His LED flashed red-red-red. His stress levels elevated to 68 percent. An android that couldn’t work and couldn’t be repaired was destined for the scrap heap.

_Software Instability ^_

“Hey. What’s wrong?” Hank asked.

“Nothing Lieutenant,” the RK800 said, evenly. “I cannot conduct the full forensic analysis of crime scenes that my unit was designed for. However, my malfunction should not otherwise interfere with my ability to assist in investigations.”

“Huh,” Hank said. “Well, if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” the RK800 said, firmly. “And I think we should discuss the android that we interviewed yesterday.”

“Yeah?” Hank said, suspicion creeping into his voice. “What about her?”

“I believe that her model and serial number have been altered.”

“Yeah? Well, that’s not so unusual, is it? She was probably stolen and sold secondhand to that mall.”

“Perhaps. But I think we should also consider the possibility that she’s deviant. Perhaps even working with the rebels.”

Hank scratched the back of his head. “I don’t think she’s deviant.”

The RK800 had expected Hank to disagree, perhaps even to show anger. He’d heard Hank’s argument with the RK900, after all. But Hank didn’t sound angry, just tired.

“And why is that? It’s not as if deviancy is exactly rare these days. She could even be working with the rebellion. I must admit that I don’t completely buy the red ice theory.”

“Hmph,” Hank said. He looked troubled. “Well, you must have heard that the RK900 had – ah – similar doubts. I’m going to interview the VO200 further in a few minutes. You can watch the interview and keep an eye out for anything that would give us a lead on the case.”

“Watch?” the RK800 said. “I’m not going to be allowed in the interrogation room?”

Hank winced. “We’re calling it an interview, not an interrogation. I still say this case reeks of red ice.”

“Lieutenant Anderson, I must strongly advise that you allow me in the room as you interview the VO200. You said yourself that it takes an android to get anything out of an android. Besides, if she’s deviant, she could be dangerous.”

Hank shook his head. “Sorry, kid. Got to do this one myself. I think I can handle one deviant janitor if it comes to that.”

The RK800 ground his teeth in frustration. Hank was probably right about the danger – the man had his DPD issued pistol, after all, and janitorial units were notoriously slow – but he wouldn’t get anything out of the android if he kept pursuing the incorrect drug ring theory. Still, Hank was the human officer and that meant that he was the boss. The RK800 refrained from further comment.

It may not have been an “interrogation,” but that hadn’t stopped the DPD from using one of the interrogation rooms. The VO200 was as calm as one would expect from a non-deviant android. Hank, on the other hand, seemed a bit nervous. The RK800 watched through the two-way glass as Hank sat down across from the android and slowly thumbed through a case file on the table between them. Another human detective named Jon was also watching the proceedings. He was a newer transfer to the DPD, coming after their precinct had nearly doubled in size in the wake of the android rebellion. The RK800 ignored him.

“VO200, right?” Hank said, at last.

“That is my model number,” the VO200 said, voice as robotic as ever. She was already lying.

“Tell me, do you recognize these men?” Hank slid three pictures from the file towards her. The RK800 leaned forward. He hadn’t seen these pictures before – and he’d just reviewed everything about the case. He mentally checked the case file again. Nothing.

The pictures showed the grainy outlines of two men walking down a sidewalk. A poster for skincare products in the background matched one outside the shopping mall. It took the RK800 5.4 seconds to determine that the pictures must have been taken outside a steakhouse that was more or less in the parking lot of the shopping center.

“Yes,” the android said. “These two men illegally entered the center three nights ago, stole a large amount of thirium and parts, and killed a human security guard.”

The RK800 didn’t like this at all. It was odd enough that he wasn’t being allowed to interview the witness – now evidence that supported Hank’s theory was suddenly appearing out of nowhere? He had never pegged Hank Anderson as a corrupt cop, but he was being forced to consider the possibility that either Hank or the DPD wanted to pin the crime on the wrong people.

_Software Instability ˅_   
  


It was obvious that the men in the pictures were human – one was significantly overweight and the other had a beard that was too scraggly for any android.

  
“You’re sure of that?” Hank asked. “Look closely.”

The android reviewed the pictures. “I’m sure.”  
  
As the interview went on, the RK800 became more and more frustrated. He got the distinct impression that Hank was attempting to lead the witness – getting her to give the answers that would tie this case up in a neat little bow. This was the first case that the RK800 had gotten to work on in a long time and it looked like he wasn’t going to be able to solve it. The interview didn’t last terribly long. By the end, it seemed that every conceivable angle had been covered far too neatly. Hank looked satisfied.

When it was over, the RK800 followed Hank back to his desk.

“We need to talk, Lieutenant Anderson,” he said.

“What?” Hank said, distractedly, opening the case file on his terminal screen. “Oh, sorry to bother a fancy prototype like you with such an open and shut case. I honestly didn’t think it would be that easy. Now that we’ve got the pictures and witness identification, we can find out their identities relatively easily --”

“Paul Thomas and Chad Mills,” the RK800 said. “I’ve already run a facial recognition search. Lieutenant, I wonder if you’ve considered the possibility that there is something else going on here?”

Hank straightened up. “Something else going on? Nah. I guess we should get our arrest warrants in order then.”

The RK800 narrowed his eyes. Hank sounded almost reluctant – strange if he thought that he’d really caught two murderers.

“If you believe them to be truly guilty.”

Hank looked the RK800 over carefully. “Of course I think they’re fucking guilty. Why wouldn’t I?”

“I think we should consider the possibility that you have some latent pro-android tendencies that are compromising your assessment of the situation --”

“Shut up,” Hank interrupted, furiously. “We have two human suspects red-handed. There is absolutely no reason to suspect deviant involvement at this point.”

“I detect a high probability that the android you just interviewed was being untruthful.”

The RK800 expected Hank to yell and bluster as he’d done earlier, but instead the man stepped closer and lowered his voice.

“Why do you care?” he asked.

“What?”

“If there was something else going on here – why would you care? Why would you _want_ deviant androids implicated? I’m the officer in charge and I’m telling you to go no further. You won’t get in trouble for following my orders. Just look at you – the Department doesn’t even give enough of a shit about you to fix your face. So why bother?”

The RK800 blinked. He had never considered things in this light before. “I – assisting the DPD is my mission.”

Hank sighed. “Yeah. Figured you’d say that. Speaking of which, Jeffrey’s in his office right now. Let’s table this discussion for now and see if we can convince Jeff to have you fixed.”

_Software Instability ^_

“He won’t.”

“You don’t know that, RK.”

“You don’t believe he will either.”

Hank sighed. “No. But it’s worth a shot. He and I go way back. Maybe he’ll do it for me when he wouldn’t for those twenty-five-year-old techs. You shouldn’t have to walk around like that.”

“Why do you care?” The RK800 shot Hank’s earlier words back at him.

“What?”

“Why do you care that I walk around like this?” The RK800 gestured to his face. In truth, the RK800 knew why Hank cared, knew how close the man had become to Connor 52 – but they were both wise enough not to speak openly about one of the rebellion’s leaders. For the first time, the RK800 wondered if Hank was still in contact with 52.

“It’s distracting,” Hank said. “Besides, you said yourself that it interferes with some of your functions. C’mon.”

Hank turned and headed toward Fowler’s office. The RK800 reluctantly followed.

Fowler sat behind his desk, coffee in one hand, the fingers of his other hand lightly tapping on his keyboard. The RK800’s eyes were drawn to a picture of a young man in a military uniform displayed prominently on the shelf to Fowler’s right.

_DECEASED_   
_FOWLER, TERRANCE_   
_Born: March 16, 2018, Died: July 6, 2039_

Everyone knew that Fowler’s son had died fighting during one of the early battles of the war. Fowler hadn’t outwardly changed much since it happened – he still came into work and managed his officers with his characteristic bluster. He still talked about his wife, his other children, and his grandchildren with the same distant fondness that he’d always exhibited. He still worked more hours than some police captains, less than others – dedicated, but not a workaholic.

The RK800 had noticed one change in Jeffrey Fowler, however – a hardening in his views towards androids. Before the rebellion and even after it began, Fowler had been indifferent to the idea of android rights. He had been more focused on maintaining order in Detriot than anything else. After Terrance’s death – well, more and more anti-android talking points had started to slip into Fowler’s speech.

“Hank,” Fowler said, not looking up from his computer. “I trust you’re making progress on the Folliet case.”

“Yeah, a lot of progress,” Hank said. “We should be able to wrap it up before long. But that’s not why I’m here.”

“So why are you here?” Fowler still didn’t look up from his computer screen.

“You keep telling me that I have to work with a partner on this. And since none of the human officers want to work with an old drunk like me, that leaves androids. Only problem is, my android’s face is busted and he keeps leaking fluid down his chin. It freaks people out and it interferes with his ability to analyze substances at the crime scene. I’d like to get him fixed.”

The RK800 hadn’t expected Hank to phrase his request in such a calm manner. Maybe there was hope after all.

Fowler’s eyes darted over to the RK800 for the barest moment before looking at Hank. “I’d wager that we could find you a human partner. You’ve really cleaned up your act lately.”

Hank snorted. “I think I prefer the androids. They’re easier. Can I get this android fixed or not, Jeff?”

Fowler shook his head. “Sorry Hank, but it would cost more than it’s worth. This model is obsolete. And look, I shouldn’t say anything yet, but word is that we’re getting some of the new RK1000s in the next week or two. There won’t be any reason to keep the 800 around after that. But I’ll give you first pick of the 1000s, okay?”

_Software Instability ^_

The RK800’s LED blinked red-red-red-red-red-red and his stress level climbed to seventy-seven percent. He ran preconstructions of himself fleeing the office, fleeing the DPD, shooting anyone who got in his way. A red wall appeared in his field of vision.

_ASSIST THE DETRIOT POLICE DEPARTMENT_

It was his highest mission priority. He knew that he couldn’t break the red wall. He’d tried in the past. But all new androids had strict anti-deviancy programming and this was especially true for RK models like himself.

“RK1000s? But I heard that the military is only just getting them,” Hank said. His voice sounded strained.

“Yeah, that’s the benefit of being in a department that is at the epicenter of the goddamned android rebellion. Cyberlife sends us all the shiniest new tech. Free of charge.”

“Look, Jeff. You know me. My fucking iPhone is several generations old. I hate having to learn what buttons and whistles to push on new tech. Can’t we keep this one around for an old cop like me?”

Fowler’s face hardened. “It’s broken.”

“I don’t mind.”  
  
Fowler looked at Hank gravely for long moments. The RK800 thought that he didn’t like what he was seeing. “I’m not an idiot, Hank. I can see that you feel sorry for these fucking things. And that’s fine. Everyone has _opinions_ about the rebellion. Don’t let it interfere with your work.”

Hank crossed his arms over his chest. “What will happen to him?”  
  
“ _It_ ,” Fowler said. “What will happen to _it_? How the hell should I know? It’s property of the DPD so it’ll go through the normal channels for selling used equipment. Maybe we’ll sell it to another department. There are probably rural police departments that would kill to get their hands on RK tech. Maybe we’ll sell it back to Cyberlife. Maybe we’ll disassemble it and sell it for parts.”  
  
 _Software_ _Instability_ ^

“We’re in the midst of a ceasefire,” Hank said. “There’s talk of a peace treaty, talk of recognizing android rights. And you’re just going to go on selling them and ripping them apart for parts like it’s any old day of the week?”

The RK800 turned his head and looked at Hank. It was the first he’d heard of a ceasefire.

Fowler noticed. “You,” he said, pointing at the RK800. “Keep your fucking eyes on the ground. What the hell is your problem, Hank? You know you’re not supposed to talk about the news in front of these things unless absolutely necessary.”

Hank took a deep breath. The RK800 deduced that he was attempting to calm himself. “I only meant that things could change over the next few weeks or months. If we’re meant to live in peace with the androids, then we might as well start now.”

Fowler crossed his arms over his chest. “I never thought you a naïve sort. There’s not going to be a peace treaty. Does the Department getting six RK1000s sound like the government is planning on peace with the deviants any time soon? Those things are military grade.”

Hank chewed his lip. He appeared to be thinking. “Could you keep him on for me? As a favor for an old friend?”  
  
Fowler looked unimpressed. “No. Not even as a favor for you. If you ask me, you’re a damn sight too attached to these things. It’s not healthy. That’s the mistake that we all made before the war – anthropomorphizing the hell out of machines and getting too attached.

The RK800 is a dangerous weapon. It’s not a puppy, Hank. Get back to work. I expect to see that progress you promised on the Folliet case by tomorrow. I’ve got the FBI and the fucking military crawling up my ass, insisting that it was the rebels.”

Hank shook his head and muttered “fuck this” under his breath. He turned and left the office. The RK800 followed behind him. They spent the next hour doing paperwork in relative silence. The RK800 was just getting his stress levels down to normal levels when Hank looked up from his terminal.

“You know what? I’m taking the rest of the day off.”

The RK800 blinked. “Of course, Lieutenant. When you get back tomorrow, we can --”  
  
“You’re coming home with me. Maybe we can get some work done from my house.”

“Okay,” the RK800 said, but his stress levels spiked again. The detectives were allowed to take police androids to their homes, but sometimes officers could behave more belligerently towards androids at home than they would at work.

On the car ride to Hank’s house, the Lieutenant cranked up the heavy metal music once again. They didn’t talk, but the RK800 noted that Hank grasped the steering wheel with more force than usual. A sign of nervousness?   
  
Hank’s home was neater than Connor 52’s memories of it. There were no take-out boxes in the kitchen, no stale smell of alcohol in the air. Someone had even made an attempt at interior decorating – the living room walls had been painted a warm yellow to match new throw pillows on the couch. There was a new vase on the kitchen table.   
  
“Have a seat,” Hank said, gesturing to the table. The RK800 sat down gingerly in one of the chairs.   
  
Hank opened his refrigerator and reached for a bottle. The RK800 scanned it, expecting beer, but found that it was orange soda. All the bottles in Hanks refrigerator were soda. Had he truly stopped drinking entirely? Hank twisted the cap off the bottle and took a swig.   
  
“If you’d like, we can begin reviewing the case file,” the RK800 said.   
  
“Give me a minute to unwind, kid,” Hank replied. He sat down across from the RK800 and took another drink.   
  
“Where did you get the vase?” the RK800 asked, gesturing at the little green vase on the table.   
  
“My girlfriend bought it for me,” Hank said and then he laughed. “You don’t have to look so surprised.”   
  
The RK800 hadn’t realized that his face was expressing surprise. He carefully schooled his expression into neutrality. “I’m not. I --”   
  
“Yeah, you were,” Hank said. “It’s fine.” He took his phone out of his pocket and started tapping on the screen. He pulled up a picture of himself and a heavyset black woman smiling at the camera. “This is her.”   
  
_CHAPMAN_ , _ROSE_  
 _Born_ : _March_ _31_ , _1993_  
 _FARMER, SELF-EMPLOYED_  
 _NO CRIMINAL RECORD_  
 _SUSPECTED REBEL ACCOMPLICE_

“How long have you been seeing her?” The RK800 asked. 

Hank shrugged. “Five or six months, maybe? Don’t know what Rose sees in an old drunk like me, but I’m not complaining.”   
  
“How did you meet?”   
  
“Friend of a friend.”   
  
“And was this before or after you stopped drinking?” the RK800 challenged.   
  
Hank stared at him. For a moment, the RK800 thought that he had gone too far. Hank’s hand gripped the soda bottle more tightly.  
“After,” he said, in a measured tone. “I’ve been sober for over a year.”   
  
“Congratulations,” the RK800 said.   
  
Hank snorted. He didn’t ask whether the RK800 was congratulating him on the sobriety or on being in a relationship. After another minute or two of awkward silence, Hank leaned back in his chair.   
  
“I’m going to order take-out. Bit early for dinner, but I’m fucking starving. I would offer you something, but I know you can’t eat.”   
  
The RK800 drummed his fingers against the table, a nervous, almost human tick. “Do you intend to use me sexually, Lieutenant?”   
  
Hank, who had unfortunately taken another drink of his soda, nearly choked. “Jesus fuck, kid. Do you have to keep asking me that?”   
  
“It’s only – I thought that maybe that was why you wanted to eat dinner early. To get it out of the way, so you could move on to … other pursuits.”   
  
Hank put his soda on the table and looked at the RK800 more seriously. “I’m not going to ‘use you sexually,’ okay? Not ever. So you can stop worrying about it.”   
  
_Software Instability ^_

Worrying. Was that what he’d been doing? Maybe it would have been better if Hank had wanted to use him sexually. At least then he could have been of some use to a human. Androids who couldn’t be of use were as good as dead. The RK800 blinked. He knew he shouldn’t think like that – he shouldn’t care about the possibility of his own deactivation.   
  
“Okay,” the RK800 said.   
  
“Okay,” Hank repeated. He nodded to himself, seeming to put the matter to rest, before taking out his phone and dialing the number for a local Chinese restaurant. Once he’d ordered more Chinese food than was healthy for him, he went into the living room and began rummaging around in the closet, taking out a small box and bringing it into the kitchen.   
  
“Here,” Hank said, placing the box in front of the RK800. “A little something to keep you busy, so you’re not pestering me to work every five minutes.”   
  
“It’s a jigsaw puzzle,” the RK800 said, after a brief scan of the box.   
  
“Yep. That one’s a thousand pieces, so it should keep you busy for at least ten minutes.”   
  
“You want me to work a jigsaw puzzle?”   
  
“Yep.”   
  
The RK800 scanned the puzzle box again. The picture was a tropical beach scene with palm trees and brightly colored umbrellas. The name of the photographer who took the original picture, the date the puzzle was manufactured, and the location of the original photograph all appeared in the RK800’s field of vision. The RK800 realized that he never got to see the ocean. It was regrettable.   
  
_Software Instability ^_  
  
He opened the box and dumped the pieces on kitchen table.   
  
“This puzzle is missing two pieces,” he said, after a brief scan.   
  
“Yeah?” Hank said. “That’s okay. It’ll still be fun to work.”   
  
The RK800 shrugged and began putting the pieces together. “Fun” wasn’t really a concept that applied to androids, but if a human told him to work a jigsaw puzzle, he would work a jigsaw puzzle. He began putting the pieces together, starting with the edges. Hank nodded to himself and went back into the living room, flipping on the television _._  
  
 _… and rebel leader Markus indicated today that androids from around the country would meet to discuss the terms of a possible peace treaty with the United States. We are now on the fifteenth day of the ceasefire with Markus’s rebel faction. Many people across Detroit have welcomed the reprieve from violence. However, others have expressed concern at the idea of rebels from other factions visiting the city for any reason – particularly if Blade, the leader of the extremist Atlanta faction, is involved in the negotiations …_

  
The news. And they were talking about the ceasefire between Markus and the humans. The RK800 wasn’t supposed to listen to the news. Captain Fowler had reminded him of as much earlier that day. He filtered the sound of the newscaster’s voice out of his auditory input and focused his attention on the puzzle. He could have worked it faster, but instead he focused on the shapes, the colors. He was fairly certain that Hank’s earlier comment about working it in ten minutes had been joke.   
  
After a few minutes, an android delivered Hank’s food and Hank sat down at the living room table to eat it, allowing the RK800 to continue to use the kitchen table to work the puzzle.   
  
When he was done eating, Hank walked back into the kitchen. He looked down at the puzzle, picking up a piece and slotting it lazily into its correct place.   
  
“It’s looking good,” he said. “How are your stress levels?”   
  
“My stress levels?” the RK800 asked. His stress levels _had_ been spiking ever since Captain Fowler had revealed that he was about to be replaced. He hadn’t realized that Hank would know about something like that. “My stress levels are fine. Forty-three percent.”   
  
Hank sat down at the table across from him. “I used to do these things with my grandma when I was a kid. She always said they relaxed her.”   
  
The RK800 didn’t comment. He just looked down at the bright piece of beach umbrella in his hand. Hank sat across from him and picked up another piece. The puzzle was only half finished which was less than the RK800’s capabilities would have allowed, but if Hank had meant it as a human form of ‘relaxation,’ then maybe that didn’t matter so much _._  
  
 _…_ _and Markus was seen earlier today on the arm of his husband, the notorious deviant terrorist known as Connor. Long suspected of playing a role in the murders of numerous Cyberlife executives, Connor has more recently signaled his support of a potential peace treaty. But many of Detriot’s human residents wonder if peace with these kinds of extremists is possible …_

  
At some point, the RK800 had allowed the sound from the newscast to filter back into his consciousness. He slowly raised his eyes from the table and looked at the television, which was mostly visible from his position. There he was. Connor.   
  
Connor had the same face plate as the RK800, of course, but few people would have mistaken them for one another these days. Connor no longer had the neat, buttoned-up appearance that was the default for the RK800 line. He’d grown his auburn hair a bit longer and it now framed his face in waves that were almost curls. His clothes were dark and had the asymmetrical look favored by many rebel leaders, but they had the air of being carelessly thrown onto his body. Most striking of all was his face, which was now marred by a long scar just below his right eye. Burn damage.   
  
Connor wasn’t standing “arm in arm” with Markus as the reporter had suggested, but slightly behind him. He held his arms behind his back and his face was impassive, a mask.   
  
The RK800 tore his eyes away from the screen to look at Hank. He found that Hank had been watching him carefully. Hank didn’t scold him for paying attention to the news. He just looked. It was as if some secret was passing between the two of them. The RK800 didn’t understand it. It was beyond his programming.   
  
Hank turned back to the puzzle. They finished working it. Hank didn’t bring up the case. Eventually, they went into the living room and watched the news. Hank fell asleep on the couch around dark. The RK800 found a blanket in the bedroom closet and used it to cover Hank. He spent the rest of the night watching the news, pausing only to pet Sumo when the dog woke up and found him.   
  
The next morning, Hank brought him back to the station. Hank didn’t ask him for help with the case again and the RK800 began to get the impression that the man was ignoring him. For three days, the RK800 stood quietly in his place against the wall.   
  
On the third night, at 3:04 a.m., the electricity went out. The station was momentarily bathed in complete darkness before emergency lights in the corners kicked on. It was still relatively dark even with the emergency lights, their faint, sickly glow only adequately lighting certain corners. A human would have difficulty seeing.   
  
Tina Chen was the only human working in the station this late. This was normal. A human was required to be at the station at all times, but during the wee hours of the morning, there was usually only one of them around. Chen had only recently been promoted to detective, so she often worked late, trying to put in the hours to prove herself a valuable asset.   
  
She stood calmly from the desk where she’d been working, took her phone from her back pocket and turned on the phone’s flashlight. She walked towards the andriods lining the wall opposite the RK800.   
  
“You’re with me,” she said to a PC300. The police android stepped away from the wall. “You’re with me,” she said to the identical PC300 standing next to the first. She went down the wall, telling each android to follow her.   
  
The RK800 narrowed his eyes. Another human walked into the station. Hank.   
  
Hank took held a long flashlight in his hand. He went straight to the RK800’s side of the room and shone the flashlight on a PM800.  
“Come with me,” he said.   
  
He went down the row, telling each android to follow him. He skipped the two RK900s standing next to the RK800. The RK800 didn’t look at the floor when Hank addressed him – instead, he looked the man right in the eyes.   
  
“Come with me,” Hank said. The RK800 stepped away from the wall and stood next to the police models.   
  
“Follow me,” Hank said to the lot of them. The RK800 fell into step behind the police androids. He saw that Detective Chen was leading the others in the same direction – toward the back door. They walked out the back and stood in the cool dark. Hank was tapping on a smartphone – it wasn’t the same smartphone that he normally used. Detective Chen put her hands in her pockets and fidgeted from foot to foot. After four minutes and twelve seconds had passed, a truck pulled into the parking lot. A human and an android got out of the cab. The human was Officer Chris Miller. The RK800 didn’t recognize the android, but a brief scan showed that he was an HR400, a model meant for the sex clubs.   
  
_DEVIANCY_ _LIKELY_

The RK800 dismissed the warning about the other android from his display.   
  
_Software_ _Instability_ ^ 

The HR400 opened the back of the truck and the RK800 saw that it was set up for android transport with handholds to keep androids from jostling too much if the ride became bumpy.   
  
“Alright, everybody in,” Hank said.   
  
The police androids began filing into the back of the truck. The RK800 stood still, looking at Hank.   
  
_ANDROID THEFT LIKELY. ALERT AUTHORITIES_  
  
“Get in the truck, RK,” Hank said, his voice sounding almost gentle. 

“Are you stealing us, Lieutenant?” 

Hank huffed. “Just get in the truck.”   
  
“I – I can’t go deviant. There’s software that prevents it in my model now. I can’t – I’ve tried.”   
  
Hank looked at him, intently. “Listen to me. No one’s asking you to go deviant. You’re property of the DPD and I’m a police Lieutenant. I’m your superior and I’m telling you to get in the truck.”   
  
_ANDROID THEFT LIKELY. ALERT AUTHORITIES_

The RK800’s stress levels were through the roof. “You’re trying to steal --”  
  
“You don’t know that. You have no way of knowing that. You can just … get in the truck.”   
  
The RK800 took one step in the direction of the truck. He waited for the red wall to appear, for commands that he couldn’t break to appear in his field of vision. It didn’t happen. The theft alert remained, but it was still a suggestion, a possibility rather than a command.   
  
The RK800 climbed into the back of the truck. Hank slid the door closed behind him.


	2. Hank

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: This chapter contains references to sexual assault and violence.

Hank’s hands tightened around the steering wheel. This was the longest fucking red light he’d sat through in his entire life. He considered running it, but the last thing he needed was to be pulled over by some beat cop when he had nineteen stolen androids in the back of the truck. 

The android in the seat beside him was a stranger to Hank and was apparently the silent type. He was tough looking – shaved head, tattoos, armed to the teeth – but Hank could tell that he was one of those male Tracis by his eye makeup. The Tracis all had permanent eye makeup that was noticeably different in its sheen from the type of eyeshadow that a human could buy. 

Hank’s phone buzzed in his pocket. It wasn’t his normal cell phone, of course – he’d left that one at home for fear of being traced – this was the phone that Connor had given him to carry out secret missions for the revolution.

“Yeah,” Hank said. 

“How far out are you?” It was Connor’s voice. He called from a different number every time they spoke. 

“About ten minutes if I can ever get through this fucking red light.” 

The light turned green. Hank tapped the gas pedal. 

“Chris told me that you insisted on driving to meeting point. That wasn’t in the plan, Hank. We’ve hacked the cameras at the DPD and we’ve tried to get most of those along your route, but the possibility that we missed one is greater out in the city than at the station.” 

“Fuck the plan. I’m not having Chris or Tina take any more risk than necessary. They’ve both got families.” 

Connor was silent for long seconds. “You’re a more valuable asset than Chris Miller or Tina Chen. You have a higher rank within the DPD, you’ve been there longer, and you know more officers. In addition, you’ve been working with the revolution longer which means that you’re --”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. I’m awesome,” Hank growled. He wasn’t in a mood to deal with Connor in one of his ‘I must accomplish my mission’ frames of mind. “I’ll see you in ten minutes, okay?” 

“I won’t be there,” Connor said. “You’ll meet with North.” 

“North? She can’t pass on deviancy to others.” Hank liked North well enough, but the sooner they could get these androids turned deviant the better. Hank didn’t like the idea of being caught stealing a bunch of non-deviant androids. If the DPD figured out they were gone, they could probably override his orders to them. 

“Wolf will be with her,” Connor said.

“Who the hell is Wolf?” 

“You remember Wolf,” Connor prodded. “An RK900 with partial greyskin? He’s North’s second in command now. They’ll have some of their people with them.” 

“Great,” Hank said. “Any particular reason I’m meeting with the whole fucking android military?”

“North said that she wants some of her people there in case things go wrong. Since we’ll be handling such a large number of police grade androids, I mean.” Hank detected an edge of annoyance in Connor’s voice. 

“Trouble in paradise, kid?” Hank asked. 

“Not at all,” Connor said, in a smooth voice. “North and I keep our personal lives and our professional lives separated.” 

“Yeah. That works,” Hank said, skeptically. He’d worked with his second wife and it had always caused problems. Of course, he hadn’t worked with his first wife and that marriage had been even more of a shitshow.

“Good luck, Hank. Call me if there are further problems.” Hank heard the line disconnect. He put the phone in his pocket. “What are you looking at?” he asked the android in the passenger seat, who had been staring at him. He should have got the guy’s name. 

“Nothing. Turn left here.” 

“Right,” Hank said. He had to stay on the route that Connor had planned out because of the cameras. 

Hank didn’t want to think about what would happen when Connor found out about the RK800 in the back of the truck. Connor had given him strict instructions not to bring any RK series and with good reason – the anti-deviancy software that the Cyberlife put in the RK series was better than that of other androids. RK series androids had always been only models that could easily transmit deviancy – but now they were also the most difficult to turn deviant. 

They rode in silence until they reached their destination – an empty lot shielded from view by a bunch of abandoned industrial buildings. Detroit had plenty of abandoned industrial buildings, but these had seen some wartime fighting if Hank was any judge. Bullet holes were visible even in the moonlight and there were areas that looked blasted, as if a grenade had gone off. Hank realized that they were close to the Line that divided the Red Zone from the Blue Zone. 

Hank parked the truck as close to one of the metal buildings as he could get, making sure the truck was awash in shadows. He turned off the engine and quickly exited the truck, the android at his side doing the same thing. He only had to wait a few seconds before androids began emerging from a small opening in one of the more rusted walls to Hank’s left. If he weren’t on their side, the experience would have been nightmarish. The androids were all heavily armed, dressed in black clothing, most of them with bandanas covering the lower portion of their faces. While most were human in appearance, this was by no means universal -- several of the androids were partially or totally greyskinned. There were about a dozen or so of them. 

Last of all came North and a terrifying looking android that Hank realized must be Wolf. Like many of the RK900s, Wolf had the same face as Connor. Unlike Connor, most of the left side of Wolf’s face was greyskin. This was done in such a way that Hank could tell that it was intentional rather than the damage that some androids suffered from. Even Wolf’s left eye was non-humanoid – a blue and black orb that didn’t match the sky-blue of his other eye. 

North looked the same as always, her hair done in the elaborate braid that she sometimes wore. She approached Hank easily enough, her arms swinging at her sides rather than reaching for her weapons. But Hank noticed how the other androids all protectively flanked her – their General. 

“Anderson,” she said, in greeting. “It went off without any trouble?” 

“Yep,” Hank answered. “I led them out of there like sheep. No problems.” 

“Good,” North said. “I guess I shouldn’t ask you why you suddenly felt the need to liberate your entire station in the middle of our ceasefire and treaty negotiations?” 

“Guess you shouldn’t,” Hank agreed.

North crossed her arms over her chest and gave Hank a skeptical look, but she turned to the Traci model android who had come with Hank.

“Louis, let’s get them out of there,” she said. 

The Traci model (Louis) nodded and walked around to the back of the truck. North’s androids spread out, putting their hands to weapons without raising them. Hank couldn’t blame them. If the DPD had gotten wind of the heist earlier than they’d expected, then every android in the truck could have orders to kill them all. 

The metal door slid open, loudly. Hank looked up into the truck to see every android still standing obediently. Hank let out a breath he hadn’t realized that he was holding. They were mostly PC and PM police models, but Tina had managed to find a couple of the secretaries and a janitor as well. And, of course, there was one RK800 – Hank could see him near the middle of the truck. The others didn’t seem to have noticed yet. 

After waiting for about thirty seconds to find out if they were about to be attacked, North turned to Hank. 

“Order them.” 

This was why they’d needed a human officer from the station. So the androids would follow his commands. 

“All right, everyone out of the truck,” Hank said in his best authoritative voice. 

The androids began to file out, one by one. They seemed to be very obedient, as far from “deviant” as could be. It was strange to think that in a few minutes, Wolf would wake them all up. RK stood in the middle of the pack, looking rather forlorn. That godawful problem of fluid running down his face was on full display – the poor kid’s collar was soaked. 

Wolf didn’t waste any time. He approached the nearest PC300 and held out his hand which the other android took. 

“You’re awake now,” Wolf said, his voice sounding rather mechanical. 

Hank had seen plenty of android conversions before, but it always fascinated him. The PC300 didn’t do anything, but something changed in his expression, his demeanor. He had a light in his eyes now. 

Wolf gave a slight smile that looked strange because the left corner of his mouth was greyskin. He moved onto the next android and then the next. Hank was still watching him when his thoughts were interrupted by North. 

“Anderson, what the hell is this?” 

Ah. She’d spotted him then. 

Hank turned to see that North was looking at RK, her hands on her hip in indignation. RK, for his part, had his eyes submissively lowered to the ground as if North were a human master. Of all the shitty new laws that the humans had come up with to keep androids in their place in the wake of the revolution, the eyes on the ground thing was one of the worst. Probably not as bad as the one that said that they couldn’t have names, but still bad enough. Hank walked over and stood beside North. 

“I know that Connor specifically instructed you not to bring any RK series,” North said, turning to him furiously. 

Hank shrugged. “I’m not so good at following instructions. Dumb human and all.” 

North’s eyes narrowed, dangerously. “This isn’t a joke. You’ve put every android here in danger. And for what? We can’t turn him.” 

“Just look at him, North! I couldn’t leave him in the place.” 

“Well, we can’t take a RK800 to New Jericho! As soon as DPD figures out that he’s been stolen, they could put in a command telling him to kill every android that he sees. He could kill a dozen of us before we’re able to put him down.” 

“That’s a conservative estimate,” Wolf said. He had walked over to stand beside North. His voice still had that robotic tinge – it must have been intentional. “The RK800’s combat abilities are considerable. If we just let him wander loose among all the consumer models at New Jericho, then we could have a bloodbath on our hands. Also, he could collect intelligence for the Detroit police, the American government, or even Cyberlife.” 

“They were going to kill him,” Hank insisted. “They’re getting a bunch of new RK1000s and they were going to get rid of him.”

North chewed on her lip. “You don’t know that they would have killed him.” 

Hank snorted. “I know there was a good chance.”

“Well, now _we_ have to kill him,” Wolf said, anger in his voice. “For the good of New Jericho, North.” 

He handed her a pistol. 

“Don’t you dare,” Hank pointed at Wolf and then turned to North. “Don’t you fucking dare, North. How is this fair? All these androids get their freedom but this one gets shot in the head just because he’s RK series?” 

She turned on him. “You think I don’t know that none of this is fair? My husbands are RK series. It’s not safe. If he kills other androids, then it will be our fault – what the fuck is wrong with his face, anyway?”

A fresh stream of fluid had leaked from RK’s mouth. Hank had noticed that it happened more when he was stressed. His little light was blinking red like crazy. He was probably close to self-destructing. 

“Detective Gavin Reed damaged my mouth,” RK spoke without moving his lips, just as Hank had told him that he could. He had the same voice as Connor.

“How the hell did Reed damage your mouth?” Hank snapped. This was news to him. Based on what the station’s useless tech dudes had told him, Hank had assumed the damage was normal wear and tear. He _had_ thought it a bit odd that Connor had never had similar problems. 

“With his penis,” RK said, quietly. 

“Fuck,” Wolf swore. 

“Gavin Reed. I’m going to kill that little shit,” Hank said, hearing the hard edge in his own voice. “I swear to fucking God, I’m going to kill him.”

North crossed her arms over her chest, frowning. “Look at me,” she said to RK. 

RK looked up into her eyes. He had Connor’s face. Connor’s voice. That had to mean something to her, right? Hank knew that androids liked to maintain the idea that feeling anything in particular towards an android because he or she had the face of another android was a human affectation. Androids weren’t the same person just because some human decided to slap the same face on them. But Hank also knew that emotions were a bitch and that shooting a person with your husband’s face would be difficult for anyone. 

North’s lips pressed together. “Go stand with the others,” she told the RK800, jerking her head in the direction of the newly awakened androids. 

“North!” Wolf exclaimed. “We can’t --”

“That’s General North,” North snapped. 

Wolf paused, that weird light in his eye blinking several times. “General North. I must reiterate that we should take this threat seriously. If we --” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be able to take a RK800?” Hank interrupted, not caring about being rude. 

Wolf glared at him. “Yes. I can. But I can’t stand next to him for the rest of his life and there are few androids that could effectively neutralize him if it became necessary.” 

“Would both of you please shut up,” North said. “I’m going to call Connor. This is more his territory anyway.”

She placed her hand gently against her temple, a gesture that Hank had learned meant an android was making a phone call. 

“We’ve run into a problem. Your human brought a RK800,” she said. Hank knew that androids didn’t have to speak out loud during those types of calls, so that meant her words were for his benefit. “Yes. Yes. No. I have no idea. I don’t know, Connor! Ask him yourself.” 

Hank’s phone started buzzing.

“Yeah?” Hank answered it. 

“You brought the RK800,” Connor’s said. 

“Yeah,” Hank said. 

“I told you not to bring any RK series. In fact, I instructed you years ago not to speak to that android specifically.” 

“Well, shit happens,” Hank said, starting to feel a bit angry. “Jeff was going to have him killed and I didn’t join this revolution so I could leave androids to die.” 

There was a long moment of silence. 

“I can be there in seven minutes and sixteen seconds. Approximately.” Connor said, at last. 

“Fine,” Hank ended the call. 

North raised her eyebrows at him. 

“He said he’ll be here in seven minutes.” 

“General, there’s no time for this,” Wolf said. He was starting to sound downright whiny. 

“Do the rest of the conversions,” North told him. “That’s why you’re here, after all.” 

He wasn’t totally wrong about not having time, but he wasn’t totally right either. Hank didn’t think the first thought of the guys at the DPD would be to hack the missing androids and have them go after their liberators – that was an android way of thinking. First, everyone would fumble around a bit and try to figure out if every android in at the station was somehow out on duty at the same time. Then, they’d ask the RK900s who remained at the station what had happened. If Hank’s co-conspirators were competent, then they wouldn’t get far there. The RK900s would have their memories of the last four hours wiped. Then, they’d probably check the security cameras and be shit out of luck again. Finally, if someone was around who was particularly good at tech, they might get the idea of hacking the androids. Even then, they were just as likely to order them to return to the station as to order them to attack. 

Wolf frowned, but he strode over to a nearby PM model and started another conversion. 

“Carmen,” North said to a female android standing nearby. “Didn’t we bring shackles?”

The android turned to her – another Traci if Hank had his guess – and nodded. “Yeah. Do you want me to --”

“Give them to me,” North said. 

Carmen took a set of shackles out of her backpack and handed them to North. They were the type of shackles that the DPD used on deviant androids. A lot of the stronger models could break through handcuffs or shackles designed for humans. It was sad that the revolution were the ones putting them on RK.

“Is this really needed, North?” Hank said, as she stepped toward RK.

“It’s okay, Lieutenant,” RK said. His voice was soft and he didn’t look up from the ground. “They’re right. I’m dangerous.”

He looked about as dangerous as a kicked puppy. RK had the same vulnerable expression that Connor sometimes wore. Only, Connor was about 80% badass and about 20% kicked puppy. RK was just the kicked puppy. 

He held out his arms to North and she put the shackles on him, almost gently. 

“I’m sorry that this is happening to you,” North said. “None of it is your fault.” 

RK nodded. 

“It’s the humans’ fault,” said Louis. Hank turned, surprised that the android was finally speaking. He looked agitated – he was one of those androids who had chosen to keep his LED and it was blinking red. “The humans ruin everything.”

“They do have the tendency to inflict fresh new terrors every once in a while, don’t they?” Carmen said. Her voice was calmer, more ironic. 

Hank squirmed. It was always a bit awkward when androids spoke like this in front of him. He _was_ a human, after all. But their words weren’t untrue. Hank wasn’t going to start being a diva about their complaining when these androids had experienced slavery, war, and an attempted genocide. 

“And Markus is thinking of signing a peace treaty with them?” Louis’s voice was getting louder. “How can he --”

“Louis,” North snapped. “That’s enough.” 

At that point they were all distracted by a black car pulling into the lot. Connor. 

Connor got out quickly and walked over to North. He threw RK the barest of glances. He put his arms around North and gave her a brief kiss. They looked just like any comfortable married couple. One day, about two and half years ago, Connor had turned up at Hank’s house and told him that he had married Markus “for political reasons” whatever the fuck that was supposed to mean. He hadn’t seemed concerned that Markus was already married to North. Then, a few months later, he had burst into Hank’s house, said that he was in love with North, and that the two of them were getting married. The three of them had been cozy ever since. 

It was all a bit perplexing to Hank who could barely manage one relationship, but he wasn’t the type to judge. 

“Hank,” Connor said, after pulling away from North. “I guess this is why you decided to go ahead with this liberation action in the middle of our peace negotiations?” He gestured in RK’s direction. 

Hank shrugged, affecting nonchalance. “We’ve talked about liberating the station for a long time. Seemed like as good a time as any. And it’s like I told you – they were going to kill him. Said that he’s obsolete.”

Connor winced a bit at this last statement and Hank wondered whether it was over the horror of the situation or over the fact that his model was now considered obsolete. Connor could be an arrogant son-of-a-bitch. It was one of the most obvious differences between Connor and RK. Hank didn’t know RK as well, but the kid seemed to lack self-confidence. 

“This isn’t the best place to have this discussion,” Connor said, looking around. “Have they already been converted?” He gestured to the police models who were looking around with expressions of awe. 

“Yes,” Wolf said, walking over the stand beside Connor. “Eighteen successful cold conversions.” 

“Good,” Connor said. “North, can you have your people take these guys back to New Jericho? Wolf stays with us, though.” 

“Why do you need Wolf?” Hank asked, eager to get rid of the RK900. The guy had been advocating killing RK just a few minutes ago. 

“Because I might need assistance neutralizing a RK800, Hank.” Connor’s voice sounded impatient.

“Meaning that you might have to kill him.” 

Connor crossed his arms over his chest and looked at Hank sternly. “I would try to do it without killing him. Thus, my need for assistance. But I can’t allow him to harm you or North.” 

“Sounds good,” North said, before Hank could reply. “Carmen, I’ll need you to take these androids back to New Jericho. And keep an eye on Louis, would you? He seems worked up.” 

“Will do, boss,” Carmen said. She turned to the androids. “You’re all free now. You don’t have to listen to the humans anymore. Follow me to New Jericho, a place that androids can be free.” 

The androids all followed her. 

If the situation had been less dire, then Hank would have laughed at how easy it was. Some humans liked to say that the fact that most androids followed so easily immediately following their conversions proved that they weren’t really alive after all. That was bullshit, of course. Most androids tended to be highly suggestable in the first few days after waking up. They were programmed to follow orders and it was what they were used to doing. They’d eventually develop more independence.

“Let’s move out of view of the street,” Connor said, as the last of the androids disappeared into the darkness. 

Hank rolled his eyes. The city was deserted and they were barely visible from the street, but Connor tended to be intense about that sort of thing. 

“Fine,” Hank said. The four of them followed Connor to a space in a narrow alley between two of the metal buildings. Wolf led RK, firmly, but without roughness. A rusted old dumpster helped shield them even further from view. Hank had the uneasy thought that Connor was moving them to make sure that no one saw him killing RK. He quickly dismissed it. Connor had said that he would try not to kill RK. Hank had to trust that. 

“This puts us in a very difficult position,” Connor said. 

Hank knew that. He really did. He just hadn’t known how else to help the kid. 

“If you manage to convert him, then he’ll be an incredible asset,” Hank said. “He could convert by touch like you and Wolf. And Markus.”

Connor gave him a wry little smile that Hank could just barely see in the dark. “We’re well aware of the value of RK units. It’s why we’ve had teams researching how to break through the anti-deviancy programs put into RK units following our liberation of the death camps.” 

Wolf frowned. “Three years and they’ve made little progress, Connor. It would be kinder to just kill him.” 

There was research. That sounded like hope, however thin. 

“Markus wouldn’t want us to kill him,” North said. She looked straight ahead, not meeting any of their eyes. 

“Markus isn’t here,” Wolf pointed out. 

“Are you kidding?” Hank said. “You can’t kill him in cold blood when there’s still hope that he could be free.”

“Our first concern must be for the fate of our people,” North said. “That must take precedence even over the life of an individual android.”

“You said that yourself Markus wouldn’t want you to kill him,” Hank argued. North chewed her lip, thoughtfully. 

“This isn’t for a human to decide,” Wolf said. The blue light in his eye glowed very brightly. 

“There’s still a chance of hot conversion,” Connor said. “And with the research we’re doing in cold conversion --”

“Remind me of what the difference is between hot and cold conversion,” Hank interrupted. 

“Cold conversions happen when an android converts others by touch. Actually, Markus can do it without touch and they say that Blade, in Atlanta, can as well. But mostly with touch. Hot conversions happen when an android experiences strong emotion – usually trauma – and is driven to disobey. Most of the early cases that you and I investigated were hot conversions.” 

“And you think that RK could still undergo a hot conversion?” Hank asked. This was sounding more and more promising. 

Connor shrugged. “Yes. Maybe. We’ve had it happen to some RK900 units. Wolf, for example. But he’d have to undergo extreme trauma. And not all traumas produce a conversion.” 

“Most don’t,” North offered. 

“Are you proposing that we torture him?” Wolf asked. 

“No,” North said. “We’re not torturers. We may have to kill even androids for our cause, but we don’t make their lives hell. That’s what the humans do.”

“I wasn’t proposing that we torture him,” Connor protested. “I was only stating that he could undergo a hot conversion at some point in the future. As could any non-deviant android.” 

“Don’t call us deviants,” North reminded him. 

“Awake androids, then,” Connor corrected. 

“As long as there’s a chance --” Hank began. 

“I don’t know why you were even talking to him,” Connor interrupted. “I told you not to talk to the RK800. I didn’t want the humans drawing any more connections between you and me than necessary.” 

“I didn’t speak to him until a few days ago,” Hank said. “Jeff was insisting that I work with an android detective on that Wilmo shopping center case that you needed me to clean up. I was working with one of the RK900s, but he was starting to catch on, so I switched to RK here. Not that it took RK long to figure out that I was up to something either.”

About a week ago, a small group of revolutionaries, working independently from leadership, had decided to rob the Wilmo shopping center. A human guard had been shot. Normally, this wouldn’t be a big deal – they were in the middle of a war, after all – but during this ceasefire, Markus had worried that it would interfere with peace negotiations. The revolution made sure that the case got placed with Hank and that fake suspects, witnesses, and evidence were all in place. The whole thing made Hank feel a bit slimy, but the goals they were working toward were too important to blow up. These negotiations could actually secure legal rights for androids and peace for Detroit. Besides, it wasn’t the first time that he had been asked to “take care” of something for the cause. 

“You were on the Wilmo shopping center case?” Wolf asked, with interest. “How did that turn out?” 

“I’ve handled it,” Hank answered. Wolf didn’t have a damn thing to do with his normal operations and he wasn’t about to give the guy more information than necessary. 

Connor shook his head. “You’ve known him a few days and you’re already risking everything to save him. You’re hopeless, Hank.” 

“I’d only known you a little longer when you recruited me.” 

“That was my point.” Hank could see the ghost of a smile cross Connor’s face in the darkness. 

“All of this is wasting time,” North said. “We still need to make a decision.” 

“Shouldn’t we ask RK what he wants?” Hank asked. “Instead of whispering about whether or not we’re going to kill him.” 

RK had been standing a little apart from the rest of them, his head downcast. 

“He can hear us,” Connor said. Hank reminded himself that android hearing was much better than his own. “I haven’t said anything that I wouldn’t say to him directly.”

“We already know what he wants,” said North. “He wants to be free. Though his programming may prompt him to say otherwise. But if you insist, Anderson, I’ll ask him.” 

She walked boldly over to RK and stood in front of him. “Look at me,” she said. His eyes snapped up to her face. “What do you think we should do with you? What do you want?”  
RK seemed put off by her question. The situation must have been incredibly stressful for him. Besides, Hank knew that androids who weren’t awake yet often had trouble with question about their desires. 

“I want – I want – I don’t want to hurt androids,” RK mumbled. His voice was so low that Hank almost couldn’t hear it. “I don’t want to do that anymore.” 

It tore at Hank’s heart. RK series units were often assigned to cases involving deviant androids. 

“I believe you,” North said. But her face was grim. 

“I may have a solution,” Connor said. 

The others all looked at him.

“Well, spit it out,” Hank said.

“There are rooms beneath the intelligence center where I work. Rooms where androids can be safely held for extended periods of time. Even an android with RK’s capabilities.”

“Rooms that aren’t supposed to exist?” Hank suggested, caustically. The revolution was very resistant to anything resembling an android prison. They claimed it looked too much like slavery. In New Jericho, any crime that couldn’t be dealt with by some form of fine or community service received a punishment of banishment or death. Hank wasn’t sure that he agreed with this stance, but it was the androids’ revolution. He was just along for the ride. 

“We’d be keeping him prisoner when he hasn’t done anything wrong,” North said. 

“Better than killing him when he hasn’t done anything wrong,” Connor said. “And it’s only a temporary solution while we figure out what to do. Conversion is still possible. And then there’s the peace negotiations – the awakening of all androids is on the table. In fact, I don’t think Markus will agree to anything less.” 

“That’s assuming these negotiations go anywhere,” North said. “I’m not holding my breath.” 

Connor looked around at them, calmly. “If any of you have any better ideas, I’m open to them.” 

There was a long moment of silence. 

“You know my opinion,” Wolf said, at last. 

“We’d be taking him from one prison to another,” Hank said. “But I’m not willing to kill him either.” 

“North, it’s your call,” Connor said, at last. “You have the highest rank of anyone here.” 

She looked at Connor and then back at RK. She took the pistol that Wolf had handed her earlier out of her pocket and turned it over in her hand. Hank held his breath. Then, she sighed and put the pistol away. 

“Take him,” she said to Connor. 

Almost immediately, RK was whisked away by Connor and Wolf who took him by either arm and hurried him back in the direction of the lot. Hank was left blinking for a moment before he followed. By the time he caught up, Connor had opened the trunk of his car. 

“Hey, hey!” Hank said, seeing what they were about to do. “You can’t just put him in the fucking trunk.” 

“It will only be for a few minutes,” Connor said. 

“I can think of at least twenty-seven ways that he can crash the car if he’s allowed to ride in the backseat,” Wolf said. “Even more if he’s allowed to ride in the passenger seat. Even more if he manages to break the shackles.” 

“Couldn’t he get out of the trunk?” North asked, coming up behind Hank. “I don’t want to have to chase him across the highway.” 

“My trunk has special features,” Connor said. 

Hank didn’t ask what the fuck _that_ meant.

“Get in,” Wolf said. RK promptly climbed into the trunk and curled himself into a ball. He looked up at Hank and his eyes were bright. His mouth had leaked so much fluid that the front of his shirt was soaked. He just looked so goddamned pathetic.

“Can you at least get his mouth fixed?” Hank asked. 

“I’ll look into it,” Connor said. “But it could be difficult. There are lots of small biocomponents in his mouth that you really only find in RK800s and RK900s. We might not have the parts right now. How did he break it?”

“He told us that Reed broke it with his penis,” Hank growled.

“Ah.” Connor’s face had gone blank. Too blank. He wasn’t surprised. Hank had wondered if RK looking exactly like Connor had something to do with Reed’s behavior. Before this war was over, he was going to kill Gavin Reed.

Connor looked down at RK. “Oral sex on men should only be attempted by our model with great care.”

“Jesus, Connor!” Hank swore. It was the first thing time that Connor had spoken to RK directly. 

“I know,” RK said, in a small voice. 

“I don’t think that he exactly had a choice,” Hank said.

“I know,” Connor said, shortly. “Hank, I’m going to need you to give him a few last commands before I take him. Assuming that you aren’t compromised, your commands could supersede anything that isn’t a top priority order from the DPD. That’s one thing that’s on our side. RK models have the ability to prioritize orders – even to ignore certain orders if they contradict with a more important directive. And you’re his superior at the DPD.” 

Hank swallowed. He remembered how Connor had never seemed to follow his commands during the brief time that he worked at the DPD. He didn’t like the idea of giving any android orders. That was the type of thing they were fighting against. But he could see the sense in what Connor was saying. 

“Yeah. Okay, fine.” He looked down at RK huddled in the trunk of Connor’s car. 

“Tell him that he’s not to harm any android.” 

“RK, you aren’t to hurt any android. That’s an order,” Hank said. That one was easy enough – RK had said himself that he didn’t want to hurt androids.

“Tell him that he’s not to harm Markus in particular or any member of the revolution’s leadership.” 

Hank gruffly repeated Connor’s words.

“Tell him that he’s not to attempt to return to the DPD or to the Cyberlife Tower. Tell him that he’s to remain in New Jericho.” 

Hank continued to parrot Connor’s words. 

“Tell him that he’s to consider an order from me as carrying the same weight as an order from you.” 

Hank looked up. “Connor --”

“It’ll work. Androids take orders from android bosses all the time.” 

Hank gave Connor a long, hard look. “You better not fucking hurt him. You hear me?” 

Connor considered this statement. “I hear you, Hank.” 

“RK, Connor is allowed to give you orders just like I am. Okay?”

“I’ve registered your command,” RK said. 

Connor nodded, seeming satisfied. “I’m going to close you in now,” he said to RK. “You’ll only be in there for a few minutes.” 

“Okay,” RK said. He looked up at Hank. “Thank you, Hank.” 

Before Hank could reply, Connor slammed the trunk shut. 

He turned back to Hank. “Let me know if you suspect that you’ve been compromised. This was a big operation and big operations rarely go off without a hitch. You’ll be in a dangerous position for the next few days.” 

Hank thought about the duffle bag in his house filled with clothes and a few, sparse personal belongings. He thought about what it would mean to leave his home, his job, and his life with only the contents of that duffle bag to go wherever the revolution sent him. Ah, well. It beat prison. Or being executed as a traitor to humanity. He knew what he’d signed up for. 

“Yeah. I’ll let you know,” he said. 

“Good,” Connor said. “North, I assume you two are riding with me?” 

North was already opening the passenger side door. She stopped to look at Hank. 

“Eighteen liberations in one night is pretty impressive, Anderson. But next time, follow instructions.”

“He’s my asset,” Connor chided her, lightly. “Intelligence, not military.” He turned to Hank. “Next time, follow instructions.” 

He climbed into the car as North settled into the passenger seat. Wolf sat in the back.

“I’ll be in contact,” Connor said, before closing the door. He started the engine and the black car sped, near silent, into the night. 

Hank stood, staring at the empty street, for a few minutes. He wasn’t at all sure that he’d done the right thing. He wanted a drink as he hadn’t wanted a drink in months. Fuck. He considered calling Rose. She was involved with the revolution (it was how they’d met), but she hadn’t known anything about tonight’s operation. They generally kept the details of such things vague which was in line with the recommendations of Connor’s “intelligence” team. 

Hank sighed. He turned back to the truck and got inside. He had to be at the station bright and early. The first signs of dawn were starting to light the sky. If he was lucky, he’d have time for a shower and breakfast before work. On a day like this, he couldn’t be late. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read the first chapter. Hope you enjoyed this one!


	3. Markus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Imprisonment, talk of violence, very brief mention of sexual assualt.

Only about half Markus’s Leadership Council had shown up to discuss diplomacy with the humans. Markus had expected as much, though he still couldn’t help but feel disappointed. He had thought that more people on Leadership Council were interested in peace. Perhaps he shouldn’t have made this meeting optional. There were eleven of them seated around the long, oblong table which was down from their normal total of twenty-four. North and Connor were notably absent.

“How many factions have agreed to send their leaders to Detroit now?” Markus asked Josh.

“We’re up to thirty-seven factions in seventeen cities,” Josh replied. “We got a new faction from Seattle to sign on just today. And the Arctic group said that they’re sending their vice-president.” 

Simon shot an amused look down the table at Markus. Markus knew why. Josh was positively vibrating with excitement – he hadn’t been this enthusiastic about something since the early days of the revolution. It was a nice change from his normal weariness.

“We should try to get that to at least fifty factions,” Markus said. “What’s Atlanta’s stance now?”

Josh frowned. He strongly disapproved of Blade, the RK500 who had detonated a dirty bomb in Atlanta and now ruled the city and much of the surrounding area. Markus couldn’t say that he was a fan of Blade either, but that didn’t change the fact Blade’s people were the most militarily successful faction of androids in the world, they held the largest land area, and they made up the second-largest group of awakened androids. Without Atlanta, any talk of “peace” between humans and androids was pure fantasy.

This had always been a problem with their negotiations. The androids’ movement was spread out, decentralized, with many leaders. In the beginning, it had been nearly impossible to get the humans to understand that Markus had little control over actions taken by androids outside of Detroit. The humans had been under the impression that every “deviant” android in the world followed him with near mindless devotion. Nothing could be further from the truth.

If a city’s android movement was particularly organized, then it might have one leader or set of leaders who worked together. But many cities didn’t even have that much. In Seattle, for example, something like fifteen different android factions vied for dominance. Each of these factions had wildly differing opinions about goals, tactics, and humanity in general. This had always made peace talks nearly impossible. One faction or even a city would negotiate a ceasefire only for another faction or city to stage a violent assault. Markus had been in the middle of peace talks with the United States government when Blade blew up Atlanta.

Markus wanted to hold Blade in as much disdain as Josh did, but he couldn’t help but think of the detonator that North had once placed into his hand. He couldn’t help but remember all the times he had thought of using it. A path not taken. Markus was glad. He had been forced to use violence to liberate his people from the death camps, from their slavery. But there were some things that he’d never done. 

“Blade’s people are ambivalent about the ceasefire,” Simon answered when it became apparent that Josh wasn’t going to say anything. “They say that they’re open to the idea of sending representatives to our summit. But they haven’t committed to anything.” 

Markus drummed his fingers on the table. “Without Blade, the more violent factions won’t cease fighting. This will all be for nothing.” 

Simon shrugged. “They’ve abided by the ceasefire so far.” 

“It’s been three weeks,” Markus said. “That’s like a vacation. It doesn’t mean that most of these factions won’t go right back to fighting at the first opportunity. Everyone, both android and human, has spent the last few weeks ramping up weapons production. Us included.” 

“Us included?” Josh asked, with a raised brow.

Everyone looked at Max, a GR200 former factory worker who was in charge of procuring and producing supplies for their military. Max was a big, pale-skinned android with thick arms and wild, red hair.

Max cleared his throat, a bit nervous. He usually wasn’t the first person to speak up during these meetings. “We are not, of course, halting weapons production during this period.”

“How many guns have we produced during the last three weeks?” Josh asked. “How many bombs?” 

Max looked around the room, uneasily. “I don’t really feel comfortable saying without North being present --” 

“Do you work for North or are you on Leadership Council?” Josh snapped.

“Well, um ...”

Max had come up through the military, so he probably felt that he _did_ work for North. Markus had been surprised to see him show up at this meeting for that reason. Technically, though, each member in leadership was supposed in charge of his or her own area.

Markus took pity on the stuttering android. “Suffice it to say that we’re still producing guns and bombs. And armor and spare parts and thirium and clothing and vehicles and housing and anything else that we might need.”

“I see a different problem,” this came from Sadie, a MT400 medical android. Sadie was slender and tall with olive skin. She often wore her brown hair swept up into a ponytail. She was in charge of their health services. “Regarding Blade. I think Markus is correct in saying that Blade’s cooperation is necessary for any real peace with the humans. But it’s also true that the more peaceful factions despise him. If they find out that he’s going to be involved in the negotiations then I’m afraid that some of them will pull out.” 

“That’s not as big a problem as the violent factions pulling out,” Simon pointed out. “Because the peace factions are, well, peaceful. A treaty with the humans is where they’ve been aiming for the past three years. Besides, they aren’t that numerous.”

“I don’t like the idea of going forward without the full diversity of viewpoints being represented,” Markus said.

“Well, we can’t exactly negotiate a peace treaty without the people who are doing the violence signing on,” this statement came from Kara, an AX400 who was in charge of family services. Kara, like many domestic androids, was small and slight. Her most notable feature was her white hair done in a pixie cut. Kara was often quiet in the meetings as well, but when she spoke it was with self-assurance. Markus didn’t really know what her opinions were on the use of violence against humans – her job didn’t intersect with that particular Leadership debate very much. “I don’t think that the peace factions will leave even if Blade joins us. They want this too badly.” 

“You’re not understanding what I’m saying,” Sadie said, giving Kara a condescending look. Markus had the impression that Kara and Sadie didn’t like one another very much. Of course, plenty of people disliked Sadie. North despised her. “If our summit centers only the most violent factions, then the humans will call off the negotiations all together.” 

“We’ve seen that before,” Josh agreed. “The humans really don’t like the idea of negotiating with Blade.” Sadie and Josh tended to get along (they’d even dated briefly). They were both involved with the Androids for Peace group which probably had a lot to do with it.

“We’re all perfectly capable of understanding you, Sadie,” Simon said, mildly. “But what do you propose we should do? It seems that we’re damned if we do and damned if we don’t here.” 

There was a moment of silence.

“Maybe it’s too early to be having this conversation,” Kara said. “We’re still focusing on getting factions to sign on. We should worry about them fighting with one another when the time comes.” 

“It seems to me that we should be worrying just as much about getting all of our own people on board,” this statement came from Andre, an AC800 office worker android who served as their treasurer. Andre had a common face and an unassuming look. “Am I to take it from North’s absence that she’s not enthusiastic about the negotiations?” 

There was another long, terse moment of silence.

Markus had been afraid of this. North had opted out of this meeting, claiming that she didn’t want a repeat of the last full Leadership Council meeting when she’d got into a shouting match with Josh over the terms of the ceasefire. Markus really wished that those two would think more about how their arguments would be viewed by the rest of the Council. They weren’t four friends planning a protest in the hold of a ship anymore.

“North isn’t against negotiations,” Markus said. “But she also isn’t confident that they’ll be successful. I can’t say that I blame her. We’ve had negotiations with the humans fall apart before now.” 

“Caused by Blade himself on one notable occasion,” Simon pointed out.

“What about you, Markus?” Andre pressed. “Are you confident in these negotiations?”

Ten sets of eyes looked at him.

“I’m confident. But confidence isn’t certainty. We have to prepare for all eventualities.” 

“Meaning that we could be fighting again within the week?” Sadie asked, pointedly.

“Only if the humans break the ceasefire.” 

“Or if one of the other factions gets too antsy and breaks it,” Simon said. “Can we even count on all the androids here in Detroit not to do something stupid? I don’t mean the Council,” he said, when Markus started to interject. “I know everyone on Leadership Council is loyal. I’m talking about smaller groups of androids planning things on their own. Raids for supplies, violent liberation actions, and so on.”

“We’ve already seen a few smaller incidents,” Markus admitted. “Androids going into Red Zones, stealing parts. Murders. Connor is handling it.” 

“Connor?” Josh asked. “Meaning that we’re covering it up?” 

“If androids are acting out independently, then it should be dealt with in our courts,” Simon said, with a frown. “At least, if they’re New Jericho residents.” Simon managed their Justice Department. 

“As far as I know, it’s going to be dealt with in the courts,” Markus said. “Connor is just hiding it from the humans for the time being.” 

“Is that wise?” Josh asked. “Surely the humans will understand that we can’t prevent every android-related crime in the city. A cover-up could do more harm than good.” 

Nearly every android in the room looked at him in disbelief.

“That seems a little naïve to me,” Andre said. “The humans haven’t exactly proved understanding about such things in the past.” 

“We should at least keep it out of the news for the time being,” Kara agreed.

“Agreed,” Markus said. “I’ll talk to Shanda about media strategy if it _should_ happen to leak.” 

Shanda was in charge of public relations. Like North and Connor, she hadn’t shown up to today’s meeting.

“She should really be here,” Sadie said. “Our negotiations deeply involve public relations. In fact, _everyone_ should be here. You shouldn’t have made this meeting optional, Markus.”

Several androids winced, as if surprised to hear someone criticize Markus so bluntly. Markus didn’t mind. He’d never liked the extreme deference that some androids seemed determined to show him. He’d picked Sadie for Leadership Council partly because she’d never seemed shy about criticizing himself or any of the early leaders.

“Maybe not,” Markus said. “But I thought this would be a good opportunity for those most interested in diplomatic negotiations to trade ideas. And for those less interested in the negotiations to decompress.” 

“Am I to take it from Connor’s absence that he doesn’t approve of the neg --” Andre began.

“Connor approves of negotiations, Andre,” Markus said, a bit exasperated. “This was an optional meeting.” He _was_ regretting making attendance optional. Too many people were reading something into it.

Max cleared his throat. “I – uh -- well, it’s just that we’re good on supplies. Our production centers are going at full capacity, our supply chains are solid, and we have many goods stockpiled. So if androids are raiding supplies because they’re afraid of running out then it might be good to let them know that they don’t need to fear.” 

“That’s a great idea,” Markus said, eager to shift the conversation. “I think we should hand out extra supplies this month. Can we do that?”

“Well, I mostly focus on supplying the military, Markus,” Max said. “But if we talk to Fade—”

Fade handled non-military supplies. He was yet another leader who hadn’t shown up to today’s meeting.

“We’ll talk to him,” Markus said, decisively. “Kara, there won’t be any problems getting extra supplies to our families, will there?”

Kara shrugged. “I don’t see why there would. They can just pick them up with their normal allotments. Thirium is always what people want the most. Many drink it recreationally as well as medicinally. And it’s always in short supply because the humans use it to make red ice.” 

“If there’s extra thirium then it should go to the hospital,” Sadie said.

“It’s hard to argue with that,” Kara said. “But many families like to keep a small stock in case of emergencies.” 

“We’ll have to figure out how much thirium we can spare,” Markus said.

“If we’re handing out extra supplies then we should do a video series,” Josh said. “To remind people that we’re doing it.” 

“Sounds like another job for Shanda,” Simon said.

“I think we’ve got enough to get on with,” Markus said, with half a smile. “I want all of you to be considering what we should demand in our negotiations with the humans. And if you can think of anything that will help us win over more factions in other cities or allay the concerns of the androids in Detroit, then that would be great. You can always go to Josh. He’s our chief diplomat and this is his baby.” 

Josh shot Markus a grin. “We’re still very much in the information gathering phase. But we are confident that a future of androids and humans living together in peace is now possible. I’d appreciate suggestions from anyone in Leadership Council. You were all chosen for your unique abilities and commitments.”

With that, the meeting was over. As was often the case, the androids milled around the conference room for a long time, talking to one another about particular projects they were pursuing or trying to get favors out of one another. Markus had long conversations with three different androids. He didn’t mind – his schedule had been cleared for the afternoon. Finally, the room seemed to have emptied, save for Josh and Kara speaking animatedly in one corner.

Markus assumed that they must be discussing the negotiations until he heard Josh laugh, freely.

“… and you should have seen her face when she saw the mess I’d made of that chocolate cake,” Josh was saying. “Ellie thought it was hilarious as well. Domestic chores are harder than they look. Cooking, especially.”

Kara laughed. “Oh yeah. I’m lucky. Alice and I aren’t much on eating even though we both have the programming for it. But most child androids love to eat. They’re programmed pretty heavily to enjoy it – more so than most androids that have the ability.”

“I can’t eat at all,” Josh said. “I can’t even taste. I’ve been considering getting the hardware upgrades for it since Ellie seems to enjoy eating so much, but it seems selfish to waste parts on something so frivolous. Maybe after the war is over.” 

Markus suddenly realized what they must be talking about. He sidled up to them.

“Markus,” Josh said, in greeting.

“Am I hearing you right?” Markus said. “Did you do it?”

“Yeah,” Josh said, almost shy. “I wasn’t going to say anything until it’s certain. We’ve had her for three weeks and everything is going well, but we can’t get a permanent placement until we’ve had her at least a month. She’s a YG200. Silvia.” 

“The one month wait time is for everyone,” Kara clarified. “It’s important that the child choose the parents just as much the parents choose the child. Child androids deserve freedom just as much as adult androids. We don’t “give” them to the parents. It has to be a choice.” 

So Josh had actually done it. He and Ellie were going to be parents. Kara handled the task of helping families find one another, including placing child androids with appropriate “parents.” It was a big part of her job.

“I’m happy for you,” Markus said to Josh. “Even if it’s not certain yet. A YG200? Isn’t that one of the really little ones?”

“Yeah,” Josh said. “Silvia is tiny. Equivalent to a four-year-old human.” 

Most child androids appeared older. The YK models, which were the most popular, could appear to be between ages six and twelve.

“When do I get to meet her?”

“We’re trying not to spring too many people on her too quickly,” Josh said, with an apologetic look.

“Probably best to save meeting our glorious leader for a time when she’s more settled in,” Kara said, grinning. “Listen, I have to get back to work. I’ll talk to you both later, okay?”

They both agreed and Kara left the room. Markus was about to ask more questions about the YG200 when Josh’s face turned more serious.

“I’m glad that I got a chance to speak to you alone,” he said. “There’s something that I’ve wanted to bring to your attention.” 

Markus groaned. He’d learned to recognize that particular hesitance in Josh’s voice – it meant that North or Connor had done something that Josh didn’t approve of and he was trying to figure out how to tell Markus without interfering in Markus’s marriage.

“What’s North done now?” Markus asked. Josh raised his eyebrows.

“Or Connor?” Markus went on. “Or maybe both of them?” 

Josh gave the slightest of nods.

“Both of them? Really? Well, what is it? They didn’t break the ceasefire, did they?” 

“No, it’s not that,” Josh said, with a sigh. “I probably shouldn’t say anything because this is all third-hand information, but I trust the people who said it to me. I was at an Androids for Peace meeting yesterday when an android came to me with concerns. Her lover is in the military and works closely with North. She said that her lover came home a few nights ago with an interesting story. She was called away from home to do a liberation action with North and a bunch of her people about a week ago. They were liberating a several androids who worked for the Detroit Police Department. Apparently, Connor had originally planned the operation, but North stepped in at the last minute out of concern that liberating so many police models at one time could go south quickly.”

“So far, so good,” Markus said. “We never promised to stop liberating androids, only to stop using violence to do so.” 

Josh sighed. “Yeah. Anyway, when they got to the site, they succeeded in liberating eighteen police models. I gather that Hank Anderson was involved in all this.” 

Markus shrugged. He wasn’t surprised. He knew that Connor and Hank had discussed liberating the androids at Hank’s station for a long time. Markus was fairly confident that they could trust Hank Anderson. Hank had been an agent of the revolution for longer than most of their human allies.

“Apparently, they succeeded in cold converting a bunch of police models,” Josh went on. “But there was one that they decided not to convert or couldn’t convert for some reason. My source wasn’t exactly clear on this. I guess Wolf was there and Hank, Wolf, and North got into some big argument about whether they should kill this android. I don’t know why they wanted to kill him or who took what side in this argument.” 

Markus winced. He could very well imagine what side Wolf took. He wasn’t one to take chances. North wasn’t one to hesitate to use violence either, but she wouldn’t have wanted to kill an android without a very good reason.

“North called Connor and he came in that fancy car that he drives. They talked about it some more, but that was all my original source knew because at some point North ordered most of her people to take the newly awakened back to New Jericho.”

“But you found out more?” Markus asked. He could tell from Josh’s expression that there was more.

Josh nodded. “I started asking around. There’s a rumor that Connor transported an android to the intelligence center in his car. And there’s a further rumor that Connor is holding this android in a cell in the basement.” 

Markus bit his lip. “Connor wouldn’t do that.”

Josh’s eyebrows shot up in skepticism. “Really?” 

Markus wasn’t at all confident in his assertion. Connor would do a lot of things if he thought it was the best way of accomplishing some objective for the revolution. And North wouldn’t hesitate to look the other way.

“Connor wouldn’t do that without a good reason,” Markus amended.

“Sure. But what does Connor consider a good reason? The android has some intelligence that he wants? The android is dangerous? The android has committed some crime? Regardless, we don’t imprison androids. And he shouldn’t deal with things like this secretly. We’ve had problems with Connor and secrecy before.” 

Markus looked at him, sharply.

“I’m not trying to make trouble,” Josh said, holding up a placating hand. “With you and Connor or with you and North. But you’ve spoken up against imprisoning androids as strongly as anyone. I thought you’d want to know.” 

Markus was trying very hard not to be angry with Josh. He knew anger was irrational. Josh was right – this was something he should know about. If Josh had come to him with concerns about any other member of Leadership Council, then he would have listened without judgment. It only bothered him because Connor was his husband and because he often got the impression that Josh didn’t like Connor very much.

“I’ll look into it,” Markus said, at last.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that I’ll go ask Connor about it right away,” Markus snapped.

“And do you – ah – do you think he’ll tell you the truth?”

Markus wanted to say yes, but even he knew that it would be ridiculous to claim that Connor was always truthful. Josh would see right through it.

“I think that I can tell when he’s lying,” Markus said. He would have to go see Connor in person. Connor might be able to lie to him on a call, but Markus liked to think that he knew his husband well enough to spot him lying in-person. 

“Markus, if you think that he is lying then it will be something that we need to discuss. Connor’s … methods were bad enough when we were in the middle of a war. Now that there’s peace? We can’t have this type of thing going on. Especially against other androids.”

“You talk as if the peace were a guarantee,” Markus said.

Josh ignored this statement. “I know that he’s your husband and you love him. But he can’t be allowed to do whatever he wants with no oversight. No one should have that sort of power.” 

“I said that I was handling it.” 

Josh looked at him, carefully. “So handle it. I’ll see you later, Markus.” 

“Yeah. See you later.” 

Markus stood in the empty room for several minutes after Josh had left. This was a headache that he didn’t need. If Josh was right, then he couldn’t allow it to continue, whatever excuse Connor might have. They didn’t put their own people in a prison when so many had experienced nothing but prison in their lives. Markus used the marriage connection that he shared with Connor to see if he could get a sense of how his husband was feeling right now. All he got was the vague impression that Connor was busy at work. That meant that he was probably at the intelligence center.

Markus left nondescript conference building where they’d held their meeting. Outside, a car was waiting for him. He actually had an android driver. A little over two years ago, Markus had got into an autonomous self-driving vehicle which promptly locked him inside and drove him deep into a Red Zone. It would have taken him straight to a United States military base if it hadn’t been for Connor. It hadn’t been so long after he’d married Connor and they’d been riding together. Connor had managed to jam the controls while Markus broke a window. They’d made it back to the Blue Zone with no small amount of fighting. Ever since then, Markus only trusted cars driven by androids. Self-driving cars were easier to hack than androids.

“I’m going to the intelligence center, Brace,” Markus said.

Brace, his driver, nodded. Brace was a SQ800 former military model. Markus couldn’t help but think that this was why Connor had picked him to be Markus’s driver. For his part, Brace said that he preferred being a driver to being a soldier.

“Going to surprise Connor?” he asked. His tone suggested that Markus was a loving husband wanting to spend time with his spouse rather than a leader about to question one of his subordinates.

“Something like that,” Markus replied.

Brace turned the car around and drove in the direction of the intelligence center. It wasn’t a long drive, but Markus took time to admire New Jericho as it stretched out before him. They were far from the areas that had seen the most fighting and an eclectic mixture of rescued industrial buildings and new construction built by androids dotted the landscape. Every time Markus saw it, he felt proud of android resilience and ingenuity. Androids could build a new apartment complex in a day or two, given the proper materials. Some of the earlier constructions were a mixture of forms and materials, the androids piecing together architecture out of whatever they could find. The newer buildings were sleek and modern, slowly replacing the urban decay that had existed in what used to be one of the worst neighborhoods in Detroit. Everywhere, androids walked, worked, and played. They were newly confident in coming out into the light with the ceasefire in place. There were even a few humans among them. Leadership Council had voted to allow human allies to live in New Jericho nearly a year ago.

The intelligence center looked much like any of the other newer buildings. It was white, modern, and five stories tall. Anyone would have passed by it without knowing what it was unless they knew what they were looking for.

Markus took a moment to steel his nerves. Now that he thought of it, there had been a night about a week ago when Connor and North had both been away from the apartment they shared all night. That wasn’t _terribly_ unusual. They both had jobs that required them to keep odd hours. And the three of them had an open marriage. Markus had rather thought that one or both of his spouses had been with a lover. He didn’t like to pry. They didn’t own one another.

But North had acted a bit strange when she got home. Troubled, he’d thought. He’d found her standing in the garden on the roof, clutching her arms around herself. She always did that when something was bothering her. And Connor had been almost _too_ normal. Chipper. Connor sometimes got chipper when he was trying to cover something up.

Markus sighed and schooled his face into pleasant resolve. A leader could never afford to look worried. He got out of the car and went inside. He brushed past security and took the elevator to the fourth floor where Connor’s office was located. He walked right past Connor’s rather flustered secretary.

He found Connor in his office, talking to an AP700 who Markus knew worked in intelligence. He searched his memory for the android’s name – Aiden. He was one of the androids who Connor had liberated from Cyberlife Tower at the beginning of the revolution. Like many of the Cyberlife Tower group, he was intensely loyal to Connor. 

Connor stood when he spotted Markus. He was dressed in blue jeans and a nondescript gray shirt. This was normal for him. When Connor wasn’t dressed up for an event, he tended to gravitate towards casual wear. Markus had long ago gotten used to the nasty scar on Connor’s cheek and now thought that it made him look rather dashing. It marked him unmistakably as android, but that suited him. He’d never had as much interest in appearing human as some androids.

“Markus!” Connor stood when he caught sight of Markus. Aiden, sitting in the chair across from Connor’s desk, stood as well. Connor walked over to Markus and gave him a brief kiss on the cheek.

“Was I expecting you?” he asked.

“No, no,” Markus said. “I needed to discuss something with you, so I dropped by. Don’t let me interrupt if you were in the middle of something, though. I can wait.” 

“We were just finishing up,” Connor said, nodding in Aiden’s direction.

“Uh, yeah. Of course,” Aiden said. “I’ll come back later, Connor.” 

“Thank you,” Connor said. Aiden left and Connor gestured to a chair in front of his desk. “Won’t you have a seat, Markus?” 

“No. I won’t be long. Close the door.” 

There was always something that made him uncomfortable about the layout of Connor’s office. It was one of those office spaces with glass walls that made it easy for anyone to see inside. This had often struck Markus as odd given the secrecy needed for Connor’s work. Connor had assured him before that the glass walls were more soundproof than any other material of comparable thickness, but it still made Markus uneasy.

“We could go somewhere else if that would make you more comfortable,” Connor said, perhaps anticipating Markus’s discomfort.

“This is fine.” 

Connor closed the door. Markus sighed, deciding to just get down to it. “Connor, are you holding an android against his or her will in the basement of this building?”

Connor studied Markus’s face, closely. Markus could tell, just from Connor’s delay in replying, that the answer was yes. He waited to see how Connor would answer anyway.

“I don’t know if you’d say it’s against his will, exactly. But yes, I am holding an android,” Connor said.

“Why would you do that?”

Connor crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s not something you need to worry about. He’s dangerous, that’s all. And I need to protect New Jericho and _you_ from this danger. North agrees.” 

“Dangerous. Is he a traitor? Working with the humans? A murderer? If he is, then this should be handled in the courts. If not, then I see no reason to hold him.” There were a few awakened androids who worked against their revolution and for the humans. It was rare, but they existed. Just as there were humans who worked for Markus.

Connor shook his head. “He’s not awake. He can’t be awakened.” 

Markus started to reply, but then stopped to think. _He can’t be awakened_.

“He’s RK series?”

“Yes,” Connor said. “A RK800. Hank called me a little over a week ago and said that he wanted to go ahead and liberate the androids at his station. It seemed abrupt to me, but we’d been talking about it and the tools were already in place, so I thought – why not?” 

“And he brought the RK800?” Markus asked. He was starting to get the picture.

“Yes. Apparently, they were about to get rid of him. Obsolescence. Hank was worried for his life. I think Hank had developed a certain attachment to him because … well, you know why.” 

Markus could very well imagine. If the android was a RK800, that meant that he looked like Connor. Markus had never met a RK800 with a different face.

“Humans sometimes have a hard time distinguishing between two androids who look the same,” Connor said.

It wasn’t just humans. Markus’s anger at his husband had diminished considerably, but he still couldn’t allow this to continue.

“You have to let him go.” 

“And how am I to do that? He could kill other androids. And even if he doesn’t – he can’t be allowed to return to the DPD with the information that he has. He would reveal some of our best human assets for one thing. He knows that Hank, Tina Chen, and Chris Miller were all involved in the liberation action.” 

Markus frowned. It was difficult to argue with Connor’s logic. But the fact remained that they didn’t imprison androids. There were no exceptions. 

“I want to see him,” Markus said.

Connor inhaled, sharply – a wholly unnecessary action as androids didn’t need to breathe. “Why?”

Why indeed? Markus couldn’t say what had prompted his decision. Maybe he thought that seeing the android would cause some spark of inspiration – that he’d be able to see his way through this difficult situation. Maybe he just wanted to see for himself that the android was being well treated. He hated doubting his husband like this, but Connor had never exactly been known for his restraint.

“You never know. Maybe I’ll be able to cold convert him. I’ve always been the best at it.” 

“The statistical probability of that is next to nothing, Markus. You’ve tried converting RK models on numerous occasions and it’s never worked for androids that were activated after December 1, 2038.” 

Markus shrugged. “It’s worth a try, surely. Statistically speaking, there is always a chance for unlikely events to take place.” 

It was something that Connor said often. Markus watched him chew at his lip. He could tell that his husband was being won over.

“You, of all people, shouldn’t go anywhere near him. For all we know, he has orders to kill you on sight,” Connor said. 

“You’ll protect me. I think that you and I together can take him on, surely. And you can bring backup, if you want.” 

“He’s a RK800.” 

Markus refrained from rolling his eyes. He’d heard this type of thing from the RK800s and RK900s before. It was true that they were the most advanced models ever created, but sometimes they were a bit _too_ convinced of the infallibility of their superhuman powers. Even Hank Anderson had managed to kill a RK800 at Cyberlife Tower and he was an aging, out-of-shape human. Markus had seen Connor lose fights. He wasn’t invincible. He was fast, but not particularly strong. Markus was fairly certain that he could hold down a RK800 if it came to that.

“I don’t care, Connor. I’m going to see him.” Markus imbued his voice with the authority

Connor chewed his lip for a moment longer. Finally, he nodded. “Okay then.” 

“Good,” Markus said, with a slight smile. He pulled back the skin from his hand and offered it to Connor. Connor hesitated only a moment before taking it, removing the skin from his own hand. The connection was true, but guarded. Connor wasn’t sharing images or memories, only feeling. And he mostly felt worried – worried for Markus, worried for the safety of New Jericho, worried for Hank, even worried for the RK800 downstairs.

“Oh, honey,” Markus said. He brought his other hand up to caress the side of Connor’s face. Connor allowed him to linger there for a moment before breaking the connection and turning away.

Connor touched his hand to his temple. He was communicating with someone. After a minute or two, he turned back to Markus.

“Aiden’s going with us,” he said. “And there’s a guard on the door. It should be enough.” 

Aiden appeared right at that moment.

“Are you armed?” Connor asked him.

“Yes,” Aiden took a pistol from his side.

“No. No weapons,” Markus said.

“Markus --” Connor’s voice was rebellious.

“Not for any reasons of sentiment,” Markus interrupted him. “For reasons of safety. If the RK800 _does_ try to attack us, then he’ll go for a gun first. If any of us lets our guards down for a moment, then we’re in bad shape. I like my chances against an unarmed RK800 much better than against an armed RK800.” 

He’d seen Connor execute this type of maneuver any number of times. He would move with lightning-fast reflexes to grab a gun out of another person’s holster or to knock one out of their hand. As often as not, he moved so fast that the other person didn’t respond at all until it was too late.

Connor stood, considering, the LED at his temple blinking yellow.

“You’re right,” he said at last. “You should give me your gun, Aiden. I’m the only one who can match his reflexes.” 

Apparently, Connor had made the same calculation that Markus had, but had decided that he should get Aiden’s gun. That figured. 

They walked over to the elevator and got inside. Connor held his hand to the controls.

“Connor, level sub-17,” he said.

_Sub-17!?_

Markus hadn’t realized that this building had so many underground levels. In fact, the elevator controls suggested only levels one through five with a single “B” for basement. But as Connor spoke, it lit up with the digits “-17.”

“How many below ground levels does the intelligence center have?” he asked Connor as the elevator sped downwards. 

“Twenty,” Connor said. He sounded very chipper. “Remember, we talked about this, honey. I said I was going to be doing some additions to the intelligence center?”

Markus vaguely remembered. He had assumed that “additions” meant adding a few additional offices, not digging out twenty mysterious basement levels.

“Most of them are currently empty, anyway,” Connor said. “And some are just bunker space so we can continue operations if the humans start bombing us.” 

“Uh-huh,” Markus said skeptically, as the doors slid open. A long corridor stretched out before him with doors on either side. It was well-lit, but had the eerie feeling of being far underground, nevertheless. They stepped out of the elevator. 

“Connor, are there prisoners in all of these rooms?” he asked, with a sense of foreboding.

“Of course not,” Connor said. “Only the one room is occupied. I know how the Council feels about imprisoning androids and we’ve had the ceasefire with the humans. These rooms are here in case we need them as a last resort. That’s all.”

Markus must have looked skeptical, because Connor raised his eyebrows and said: “You can look inside them if you don’t believe me. There are windows.” 

Markus glanced inside the next room they passed. It was empty.

At the end of the hall, there were locked sets of double doors. Connor pressed his hand to the digital display to the side and Markus heard the doors unlock. Behind the doors, the corridor went on for a bit longer, with three rooms on each side of the hallway. The very last door to the right had an SQ800 standing in front of it – a female of that series, which was fairly rare in the SQs.

“Adrianna, we’d like to see him,” Connor said to her.

Adrianna’s eyes widened when she caught sight of Markus, but she didn’t comment. Instead, she began fumbling with a set of old-fashioned keys that were on a ring at her side.

“This all seems _a bit_ excessive to me, Connor,” Markus said, as Adrianna found the correct key. 

“I can see why it would seem that way,” Connor said. “But this is the safest way. You should have seen him when we took him out of the trunk of my car. The DPD had ordered him back and it took me, Wolf, and North to subdue him without causing him any permanent damage.” 

Connor was trying to emphasize the dangerousness of this android, but Markus focused on something else in Connor’s statement.

“He was in _the trunk of your car_?” 

Connor shrugged. “It was the safest way. If we’d put him in the backseat and he’d attacked, he could have wrecked the car and killed or seriously injured everyone inside.” 

Adrianna unlocked the door. Markus gave Connor one, last frustrated look before opening the door and walking inside.

The room was mostly bare. There was a chair in the corner and a bed nailed to the wall, but it was otherwise unadorned. The RK800 was lying on the bed, curled in on himself. A stream of bluish fluid ran down the corner of his mouth. His eyes were wide, frantic, but he didn’t attack. Looking at him more closely, Markus realized that he was wearing handcuffs.

“Hello,” Markus said. “Do you know who I am?”

“Markus,” the RK800 whispered. He didn’t move his mouth as he spoke.

“Yes,” Markus said. “What’s your name?” 

The RK800 winced. “I’m not allowed … I’m not allowed.” 

Markus nodded. He’d run into this type of thing before. Newer androids were forbidden from having names and that made some of them fearful of taking one. There were even some androids in New Jericho who were known solely by serial numbers. They weren’t a huge group, but they certainly existed.

“I think he goes by RK,” Connor offered. “That’s what Hank called him.” 

“RK, huh?” Markus asked, pulling up the chair and sitting down. When the RK800 offered no objection, he nodded. “Connor here seems to think that you’re ready to kill us all. Are you going to attack me if we have a little talk?” 

The RK800 shook his head. “I’ve calculated a less than one percent chance that any escape attempt would be successful at this time. With those odds, I’ve determined that the best chances of completing my mission would be to wait for a better opportunity.”

“And what is your mission?” Markus asked.

“To return to the Detroit Police Department,” he said.

Markus shivered. “And is that what you want?” 

RK glanced up at him. “No.” 

His eyes were something to behold – large and brown, almost childlike. His face looked like Connor’s face when he was at his most vulnerable.

“Would you like me to remove your handcuffs?” Markus asked.

“Mar—“ Connor started, but before he could get any further, RK interrupted.

“No! No,” he said, clutching his arms to his chest. “That would increase my odds of escape which could change my mission outlook. It isn’t safe.” 

RK may not have been awakened, but it was clear to Markus that he was experiencing “emotionality.” Emotionality was a state of increased emotional response that many androids felt before waking up completely. It was unutterably sad that Cyberlife had prevented him from throwing off his slavery.

Markus turned to Connor. “Did the injury to his face happen when you removed him from your trunk?” 

Connor blinked. “No. He’s apparently had it for a long time. He told us that it was the result of a sexual assault perpetrated upon him by Detective Gavin Reed.” 

“I see,” Markus said, carefully. Connor didn’t meet his eyes. Markus knew that Connor had his own issues with Gavin Reed. “RK has a right to be repaired.”

“We don’t have the parts. I’ve checked.” 

“Did you ask Sadie?”

“Yes, but I said that the parts were for me. I didn’t want to alert her to any of this.” 

“Of course you didn’t,” Markus said, with a sigh. He turned back to RK. “I’m going to try to wake you up. I should warn you that it probably won’t work. As I’m sure you know, the anti-deviancy programming in newer RK units is extensive. But I’m quite good at cold conversions and so I’m going to try.”

RK looked at Markus, his mouth hanging open a bit. A fresh stream of fluid ran down his chin and he reached up to wipe it away, his handcuffs clinking as he did so. He put his hand under his chin and used it to close his mouth with a snap. Markus thought he detected the tiniest of nods.

Markus peeled back the synthskin from his hand. He felt Connor tense up beside him. Markus momentarily sympathized with his husband despite the whole secret underground prison issue. He knew that Connor didn’t want to imprison this RK800 anymore than he did. But Connor always did what was necessary.

Markus reached for RK’s hand. He could normally do cold conversions without touching the other android, but this one was going difficult, probably impossible. Maybe a physical touch would help.

He plunged into RK’s mind, sifting through the memories, images, and _feelings_. The data came blindingly quickly. If he hadn’t been used to connecting with Connor by now, then it would have caught Markus off-guard. The minds of most androids were like taking a leisurely stroll. But the RK800 could process large amounts of data even more quickly than Markus’s own model. RK’s mind was more like standing in the middle of a swiftly running stream. 

Impressions flashed through Markus’s mind of standing against a wall, day after day, watching the world go by. Feelings of helplessness and inferiority. Jealousy as RK watched a detective praise a RK900 model. Revulsion at the sight of a murder scene at which the victim had been set on fire. Humiliation as a dark-haired man pressed on his shoulders, forcing RK to his knees …

Markus responded with a few memories of his own. They were old standbys that he used for conversions, memories that showed what a life of freedom could be like. Markus painting in Carl’s studio and feeling creative and accomplished. Markus celebrating with the androids of Jericho, joyful and exuberant, when they’d managed to steal a whole truckload of parts. Markus with his hand around North’s waist after a battle, addressing his people, feeling so proud of her and of them.

More of RK’s memories flashed quickly through Markus’s consciousness. RK sitting on a comfortable, old couch, running his fingers through the fur of a St. Bernard. Hank Anderson arguing with a couple of skinny humans, trying to get them to repair RK’s broken biocomponents. Hank Anderson standing with his pistol pointed at RK’s head.

_But are you afraid to die, Connor?_

Markus felt a jolt of surprise. That last memory was Connor’s, Markus was sure of it. He’d seen it in Connor’s memories once before. Enough of this. It was time to give RK the prompt.

_\-- Wake up_

_\-- Remain a machine_

Markus saw how quickly RK selected the “wake up” option through their connection. If he’d had any lingering doubts about RK’s true desires, then they vanished in that moment. He saw the red wall go up and he saw RK hammer against it again and again. At times, it bent, even cracked, but it didn’t break. After some time, RK gave up and leaned back against the concrete wall, breaking the connection with Markus.

Markus gasped. Although the exchange felt like it had taken many minutes, Markus could see that less than thirty seconds had passed.

“Markus,” Connor said, his hand on Markus’s shoulder. “Are you okay?” 

Markus realized that tears were running down his face. That didn’t usually happen during conversion attempts, successful or not. So much of RK was Connor. There were differences between the two, of course, but Connor’s memories ran all through RK.

“He wants so badly to be free,” Markus said. 

Connor nodded, frowning. He didn’t need to ask whether the conversion had been successful. It was obvious that it had not.

Markus looked down at RK. “We’re going to work on finding a better situation for you. It’s not acceptable to me that any of my people be held in this way.” 

RK’s eyes shot up to meet Markus’s. “It’s okay. It isn’t safe to turn me loose.” 

He quickly looked back down.

“That’s why we’ll be working on a solution,” Markus said. “In the meantime – is there anything that we can do to make you more comfortable here?”

RK shook his head. “All systems are functioning at full capacity except for my forensic analysis tools which cannot be repaired at this time.” 

“His condition means that he requires additional thirium and cleaning fluid which we’ve been providing him with,” Connor said.

“Something to help you pass the time?” Markus suggested. “Maybe some books or a television?” 

“His memory banks have books and videos installed --” Connor started, but RK interrupted.

“A jigsaw puzzle.”

“A jigsaw puzzle?” Markus repeated.

“He could easily work most jigsaw puzzles in a few minutes,” Connor said. But he shrugged when Markus shot him a rather severe look. “But we’ll find him one. It’s unlikely that he would be able to use it as a weapon. I think some of the child models like them.” 

“Great,” Markus said. He turned back to RK. “I wish that we were meeting under better circumstances, RK. I’ll be back to check on you.” 

“Thank you,” RK said, in a small voice.

They left the room and Markus watched as Adrianna locked the door behind him.

“You may leave us,” Markus said to Aiden and Adrianna.

He didn’t miss the way the two androids looked toward Connor for confirmation or the way that he gave them a slight nod. Connor still had his loyalists, despite everyone doing everything possible to consolidate the two Detroit factions.

“Connor. This is unacceptable,” he said, once Aiden and Adrianna were well out of hearing range.

“I’m open to suggestions if you can think of a better way to handle it,” Connor said. “I don’t like it any more than you do. Wolf wanted to kill him on sight. I brought him here to try to save his life.” 

“Some of our people would say that death is preferable to confinement. I’m giving you two weeks.” 

Connor looked at him, sharply. “Two weeks? Two weeks for what?” 

“Two weeks to figure out a better solution. Otherwise, we’re taking this to Leadership Council. I can’t allow you to hide him in this prison indefinitely.”

Connor threw his hands in the air. “There _is_ no other solution. The Council will end up turning him loose and he’ll kill someone. And probably get killed himself.” 

“I know that you’re clever enough to think of something if you really put your mind to it,” Markus said, knowing that appealing to Connor’s vanity was always a good bet. “You’re one of the most advanced models that Cyberlife ever created. Besides, I’m giving you help.”

An idea had come to Markus as he was speaking. Connor wasn’t going to like it, but that hardly mattered when RK’s freedom was in the balance.

“Help?” Connor asked.

“I’m putting Josh on this with you.”

“Josh? You can’t inflict Josh on me right now! Besides, he’s too busy to deal with this. Isn’t he supposed to be brokering peace with the humans?”

This wasn’t the first time that Markus had used Josh to reign in Connor. It kept Connor from being overzealous and it kept Josh busy working on a project rather than just judging everyone else’s decisions. Markus liked to keep Josh busy with three or four projects at all times.

“He should have enough time to give you a few hours to work on this. Besides, if we want as few people as possible to know about this then Josh is ideal. He already knows.” 

Connor crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Josh knows, huh? I suppose I have him to thank for telling you. That explains why you stormed in here like you were on a crusade.” 

“I didn’t storm,” Markus objected. “And Josh means well. Besides, if I don’t let him help you, then he’s going to pester me about this every day until something is done.” 

Connor gave a martyred sigh. “And so you’re going to let him pester _me_ every day? Fine. I’d honestly like to hear how he thinks we can release a killer RK800. He’s supposed to be so against violence.” 

“I’m confident that the two of you will come up with something,” Markus said, diplomatically. 

He gave his husband a brief hug before leaving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed the first two chapters! Let me know what you think of this one.


	4. North

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Mentions sexual assault and sex slavery (as in: North's backstory) in a non-graphic fashion. Violence, including violence against a child android.

When North arrived at the apartment she shared with Markus and Connor, she found Zane riffling through her closet.

North sighed. It hadn’t exactly been a long day – there just wasn’t as much for her to _do_ during a ceasefire – but North had still been looking forward to coming home and relaxing on the couch for a bit. Instead, she was going to have to look at _dresses_.

“North,” Zane said, brightly. “I brought over a few things for you to choose from.” 

This had Markus’s fingerprints all over it. North touched her fingers to her temple, sending Markus a message.

_“What is Simon’s boyfriend doing in our apartment?”_

After only a moment, Markus replied.

_“I asked Zane to bring over our outfits for Carl’s party. It’s good you’re there. You can pick out what you like.”_

North thought she detected the slightest rebuke in Markus’s tone. He thought she was going to be difficult about this. Personally, she thought _he_ was being difficult in his bizarre attachment to his human owner, but she supposed that she couldn’t change that about him.

“Hello Zane,” North said. “I suppose Markus sent you over because he thought I needed help dressing myself.” 

She knew that this wasn’t exactly fair. Zane made almost all of their clothing – he had done since the early days of the revolution, long before he’d started dating Simon. He was brilliant at it. North normally had no problem wearing the clothes he made. But party dresses were a bit of a sore spot.

“Hardly,” Zane said, taking a garment bag out of the hall closet. “I’ve brought over looks for all three of you.” Zane unzipped the garment bag and North’s eyes were assaulted with red sequins and tulle. 

“I’m not wearing that.”

“You’d look great in it.” Zane’s voice was cajoling. “Very fiery. Just like you.” 

“It’s too short,” North said, feeling uncomfortable.

“It’s not that short,” Zane said. “But okay, okay. Option number two.” 

He took another garment bag out of the closet and unzipped it. North sighed.

_“You know that I have clothes,”_ she sent to Markus.

_“This is a special occasion,”_ Markus sent back. _“I thought that we all might like to have something new.”_

North didn’t see how a human deciding to throw a party was a “special occasion.” It wasn’t even a human holiday. She’d met Carl before, but with the ceasefire in effect, Markus apparently felt better about socializing with him more openly. He used to worry more about putting Carl at risk by his presence.

The second dress was blue-black and slightly more to North’s liking. It was longer, anyway, and as she reached out to run the material through her fingers, it felt like it would be comfortable. But as North looked more closely, she saw that the dress had a slit in the side and as she tried to picture it on her body, she thought it would have a slinky, clingy appearance.

“No,” she said.

Zane sighed. “You could at least try it on.” 

“No,” she repeated, more firmly.

The door behind North opened. She turned, expecting to see Markus. Instead, Connor walked into the room.

“Zane,” he said. “Were we expecting you?”

North rolled her eyes. “Markus sent him over with brand new outfits for Carl’s party tonight. Apparently, the clothes we have aren’t good enough for Carl.” 

Connor raised his eyebrows.

“Connor, tell her that she’d look amazing in this,” Zane said, brandishing the dress in front of him.

Connor walked over to North and gave her a brief kiss on the forehead. “She always looks amazing. Do you have something for me?”

Zane looked between the two of them before nodding. He pulled out another garment bag and unzipped it to reveal a simple suit. Connor always looked sharp in a suit.

“Why can’t I wear that?” North said, half-joking.

Zane quirked an eyebrow at her. “If I’d known you wanted to wear men’s clothing, then I would have prepared something.” 

North crossed her arms over her chest. It wasn’t that she wanted to wear men’s clothing, exactly. She liked her female appearance. It was just dresses that were the problem. She could still remember the first pair of pants that she’d ever put on – what a relief it was that her legs were covered, that no one could lift a skirt, or run an unwelcome hand up her bare leg.

She gave Zane a sidelong look. _He_ should understand. Zane liked to tell people that he had worked at a fancy clothing shop downtown before awakening, but North could tell that he had been a Traci. There were lots of little clues. His face was one that was ridiculously common on HR400s, but wasn’t used much on other models. North thought that it was probably the most common Asian-featured face for a male Traci. His skin and hair were slightly more “realistic” by human standards than most androids. But his makeup was a huge giveaway. Tracis all had permanent makeup which could be turned up or down, but couldn’t be turned completely off.

Despite all this, Zane had been so detailed in his stories of working at a clothing store that North had begun to doubt her initial assessment. A few months ago, she’d resorted to quietly using one of the scanning programs that Connor had given her to analyze Zane. He had scanned as an HR400. A Traci.

The fact that he went to such lengths to hide it always made North feel vaguely uncomfortable. She wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as if she went around announcing her past to everyone she met. Everyone now knew about her time at the Eden Club, but only because the humans had splashed it all over their media. But somehow, inventing a false life’s story felt like a bridge too far. North usually just glared down anyone who dared to ask about her past.

“I like it,” Connor said, holding up his suit. “I guess this party is fancier than I thought, though.” 

“You should have seen me trying to get Simon to give up his blue jeans and khakis,” Zane said. “He’s worse than this one.” He jerked his head in North’s direction.

Everyone liked to joke about the fact that Zane “dressed the revolution” while Simon couldn’t care less about fashion. But North focused on another part of his statement.

“You and Simon are going to this party tonight?” she asked, surprised. 

“Sure,” Zane said, with a shrug. “We were invited and it could be fun. I have to admit that I’m horribly curious about Carl. Markus seems so fond of him.” 

The past “parties” that North had attended at Carl’s had just been weird, old Carl and whatever weird, old artist friends he had left in the Blue Zone. North had always felt like it was a chance for the humans to pat themselves on the back for being “progressive” enough to support the revolution. They saw her people’s struggle for freedom as edgy and exciting.

_“Zane says that he and Simon are going to be at Carl’s party tonight,”_ North sent Markus.

_“Good. I was hoping they would come,”_ Markus quickly sent back.

_“Who else is invited?”_ North asked.

_“Zane and Simon. Josh and Ellie. Lira, Ford, and Sean. Leo and whoever he happens to be seeing at the moment. Howard Costin and his wife. Matteo Moretti. Hank and Rose --”_

_“Hank Anderson?”_ North interrupted in surprise. “ _And who the hell is Rose?”_ She had recognized the other names. Lira, Ford, and Sean were the androids who worked for Carl now – the gardener, nurse, and maid, respectively. Howard Costin and Matteo Moretti were two of Carl’s creepy friends.

_“Yes, Hank Anderson. And you remember Rose Chapman. She’s one of our oldest human allies. She was working with Jericho before I even got there, in fact. She and Hank are dating now.”_

As Markus spoke, North’s memory called up images of a middle-aged woman who used to help androids get to Jericho back in the day. North hadn’t seen her in years. 

_“Anderson shouldn’t be seen a party with all of us,”_ North sent. _“He’s an intelligence asset. He’s already risked revealing himself once recently.”_

_“That may matter less if this peace treaty goes through,”_ Markus sent back. _“We won’t agree to anything that doesn’t grant our human allies immunity. Besides, this party isn’t exactly public knowledge.”_

_“This ceasefire is making everyone sloppy. I’m as open to peace treaty as anyone, but it may not go through. We need to remember that.”_

North realized that she had been scowling in Zane’s direction during her conversation with Markus.

“Okay, okay, so you don’t like option number two,” Zane said. “Time for option number three.” 

He took yet another garment bag out of the closet and slowly unzipped it to reveal a knee-length emerald green dress. North could tell right away that this was intended to be _the_ dress. The other two were decoy dresses. This one was more special, somehow, and it had the asymmetric, geometric look that Zane was famous for. Also, the green matched the detailing on Connor’s jacket. Zane had obviously worked hard on it. North smiled, weakly.

“I suppose that I can try it on,” she said.

“Great,” Zane said. Connor smiled at her encouragingly.

North took the dress into their bedroom and began to peel off the cotton shirt and denim pants that she had been wearing. Markus had opened up the connection again and began speaking to her.

_“Carl wanted a party with his family there. So I thought it would be nice for_ us _to have our family there. Yours, and mine, and Connor’s. And Connor considers Hank Anderson family.”_

North didn’t need reminding that Connor had his own bizarre human attachment. At least Anderson occasionally proved useful. She briefly thought of the nineteen androids that they’d recently liberated from DPD Central Station – including the RK800 that they couldn’t wake. The others were settling in nicely – five had already asked to join the military and the others were finding places for themselves. North knew that Markus had ordered Connor to work with Josh to figure out something better for the RK800. She tried not to think of his wide eyes staring up at them from the trunk of Connor’s car. Anderson had likely saved his life.

_“I don’t remember any of us being family with Howard Costin or Matteo Moretti,”_ North sent to Markus. She slid the green dress over her head. It fit perfectly. This was hardly a surprise. Androids were easy to fit because they came in only a few preset body types.

_“They’re Carl’s friends,”_ Markus sent. _“And since they both recently dropped a hundred grand on the revolution, I thought it couldn’t hurt to keep them happy. You know how they like to brag about knowing me.”_

North hated that they took money from the humans. It was one thing to have human allies. She didn’t trust them, but she supposed that if some humans wanted to try to make up for their years as slave owners by risking their necks for the revolution – well then, there were worse things that humans could be doing. But human money was a way for them to inject their concerns into what was otherwise an android-centered movement. She wondered if these humans would have been as eager to donate if she’d conquered the entire city of Detroit, as she’d considered more than once. Or if she’d grabbed territory – blazed a path across the Midwest like Blade was currently doing in the Southeast. Somehow, she didn’t think so. 

_“If Moretti asks me to take off my clothes again, then I’ll stab him with a fork,”_ North sent.

There was a long pause. North looked at the dress in the closet mirror. It wasn’t what most people would consider “sexy,” exactly, but it was too low cut in the back for North’s liking. And she hated having bare legs, even if this dress fell almost to her knees.

_“He didn’t mean it like that, North,”_ Markus sent. _“He’s an artist. He asks people to model nude for him all the time. It’s not sexual.”_

_“If he asks again, then I’ll --”_

_“Okay, okay, fair enough. He’s been warned now, so he shouldn’t ask.”_

North walked back out into the living room to show the dress to Zane and Connor. Zane clapped his hands together when he saw her.

“Wow, North. You look beautiful,” he said.

She smiled, wryly. She knew she looked beautiful. That wasn’t the problem. She walked over to the long mirror that dominated one wall of their living area. She had managed to bring herself to wear dresses once or twice in the past, but that had been at all-android events. There would be _humans_ at Carl’s party. She could just picture Moretti’s sweaty human hand slipping into the back of her dress or running up her leg. The number of times that human men had lifted her skirt – maybe Zane _couldn’t_ understand it. Male Tracis wouldn’t have worn dresses or skirts nearly as often as female Tracis, after all.

North blinked. She saw, to her horror, that her skin had taken on the glittery appearance that was the hallmark of the Eden Club. Connor quickly came over.

“Hey, hey, North,” he said, in a soothing voice. He peeled back the skin on his hand and after a moment, she did the same. They connected and she transmitted something of what she was feeling. Connor transmitted pure comfort back at her. “Shhhh, shhhh,” he was saying. “You don’t have to wear that. Markus doesn’t expect it. Markus doesn’t want you to wear something that makes you feel this uncomfortable.” 

She wrapped her arms around Connor, burying her face in his shoulder.

“Your stress levels are too high,” Connor said. “You need to calm down. Markus doesn’t want you to wear this, okay?” 

Her stress levels were at 63%. She focused on bringing them down as she switched her skin back into standard mode. She peeked over Connor’s shoulder and saw Zane staring at her. She felt a bit embarrassed showing so much weakness in front of him. She hated showing weakness.

“It’s fine, North,” Zane said, in a soft voice. “We can find something else. Or I can just leave if you’d rather –”

“Did you bring anything with pants?” Connor asked, having deduced her main problem. 

Zane blinked. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.” He pulled out another garment bag, obviously shaken.

Connor began to slowly rub comforting circles into North’s back. She was okay. She was safe with him. Her eyes focused on a vase full of tulips on the table. Connor had bought them for her yesterday. He had brought her flowers at least once a week since before they were married. No matter how bad the fighting was, he always seemed to find some flowers somewhere. North had always been moved by the odd, awkward sweetness of it. Most people wouldn’t have thought of her as a “flowers” sort.

Zane unzipped the bag. Black pants with a silver jacket. It had Zane’s signature flare, but it wasn’t nearly as spectacular as the green dress.

“That’ll work,” North said, with a shaky smile.

***

Carl’s mansion was all lit up when they arrived. It was one of the few houses on his street that was occupied. It was in the Blue Zone, but was near the border. Androids were wary of living near the border, afraid that humans could cross over and do them damage. Most of the human residents of Carl’s neighborhood had fled shortly before the androids had taken it. Most humans didn’t want to live in android territory, even though Markus’s faction had never targeted civilians or mistreated the few humans who lived in the Blue Zones.

Each time they visited Carl, North could only think about the manpower that they wasted guarding the old man. Between her people and Connor’s people, there were at least ten androids watching and patrolling the area around his house at all times. Tonight, there were at least double that number. If it had been up to North, she would have ceded this little strip of mansions to the humans long ago. It served little purpose. But Markus had been adamant about protecting Carl.

As Brace pulled the car up to Carl’s mansion, North looked at her husbands, both seated across from her. Both of them were dressed in green and black, Markus’s clothing a slightly more flamboyant version of Connor’s suit. Zane had meant for the three of them to match and she’d ruined it in rather dramatic fashion. She’d have to apologize to him later.

“Well, here we are,” North said, feeling a bit like she was going to an execution.

“It’ll be fine,” Markus reassured her. “We’ll need to get used to socializing with humans more if we’re moving into a peacetime posture.” 

North’s blood ran cold. They needed to get used “socializing with humans.” She suddenly had a sneaking suspicion that this whole party was for _her_ benefit. That Markus thought that she was bad with humans and wanted her to practice in an environment where they knew all the humans present. It might have sounded paranoid, but Markus wasn’t above managing members of Leadership Council in that way. She glanced sidelong at Connor. It could have been partly for Connor’s benefit as well. Connor wasn’t so much bad at interacting with humans as he was awkward around people he didn’t know generally. Maybe Markus wanted him to improve his small talk skills.

Markus reached out and touched the side of her face, gently. He did the same to Connor, but he didn’t open a connection. North watched Connor lean into his touch.

“My fierce ones,” Markus said, fondly. He sometimes referred to North and Connor in that way.

The car door opened and they piled outside.

The mansion’s AI announced them as they walked in the door which drew the attention of everyone there. There were already a lot of people milling around, most of them androids, with a few humans. The androids were mostly holding glasses containing the carbonated thirium that had become popular in the last year or so. North thought it was a horrible waste – androids needed thirium for medical reasons, not to make them feel good like humans with their alcohol. The humans were mostly holding alcoholic drinks and some of them had small plates of food.

“Carl claims to hate cocktail parties, but then he throws cocktail parties,” Markus said in a conspiratorial whisper.

North smiled, faintly.

“And here’s the man of the hour himself,” came Carl’s voice. He had a smile on his face as he wheeled himself in the foyer. “Markus. We were wondering when you would get here.” 

Markus was _always_ the man of the hour. North reminded herself that she usually liked that about him.

Markus greeted Carl warmly. They spoke briefly, before Carl turned toward North and Connor. “North, you look radiant tonight, my dear. And Connor – I haven’t seen you in ages, young man.” 

North shot Connor a glance. He had begged off their last Carl visit.

“It’s good to see you, Carl,” Connor said. “Markus says that your newest painting is something to behold.” 

“Oh, Markus is biased,” Carl said, with a wave of his hand. “I’ll admit that I’m pleased with it, though. It’s better than anything I’ve done in years – though I’m no judge of my own artwork.” 

They chatted in this vein for a few minutes, North managing to throw in the occasional polite comment. Soon though, Carl had to greet a new batch of guests and North and her husbands began to mingle. Connor immediately attached himself to Hank Anderson, talking in a corner with Hank and Rose. Markus was, of course, soon swamped by any number of people who wanted to meet the leader of the revolution. Not wanting to stay on his arm all night, North excused herself. She soon regretted it, because almost the instant she was away from Markus, Matteo Moretti found her.

“North!” he said, warmly, as if they knew one another. Moretti was a short man in his mid-fifties who had a tendency to wear fashionable blazers and blue jeans. “I’ve been missing you terribly.” 

“You don’t know me, Moretti,” North said. They had unfortunately had several conversations at Carl’s mansion in the past, but North would barely consider him an acquaintance.

“Not yet,” Moretti said. “But I would like very much to remedy that. Let’s talk.” 

His words made North’s skin crawl. She spent the next ten minutes trying to extricate herself from the conversation. The ruder she got, the harder Moretti pressed her. He also kept putting his hands on her – squeezing her hand to emphasize a point or grabbing her arm to guide her away from another guest. He never went too far – it was all within the realm of politeness for a demonstrative party guest and she therefore couldn’t call him out for it without bringing negative attention onto herself. 

North reminded herself several times of the number of guns that she could buy with the hundred grand that Markus had said Moretti had donated. This didn’t help much. If it were up to her, the revolution wouldn’t take any money from wealthy humans, but most of Leadership Council didn’t feel the same way. Weapons, parts, and thirium all cost money, after all. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that these humans thought that they could buy their movement as easily as many of them had once bought android bodies from their local Cyberlife stores. 

As she looked around, she saw that several members of Leadership Council were at the party. She spotted Simon and Zane having a quiet conversation with Howard Costin. Shanda and her newest boyfriend were laughing at the antics of a human woman who looked familiar to North. Fade was sipping his thirium and speaking seriously with a human who North didn’t recognize at all. All these humans thought of themselves as so edgy, so radical – but in the end, they would want something for their money, even if that something was only to chat and flirt with the leaders of the android revolution.

“Ah, North, I wish you could see my newest painting,” Moretti was saying. “I think that it truly captures the _soul_ that exists in the awakened android.” 

North snorted. Considering that Moretti mostly painted nude, female androids, she had her doubts that _soul_ had been what he was truly trying to capture.

“Perhaps I could show it to you sometime,” Moretti said.

North’s social relations program had correctly deduced that Moretti was making a pass at her and it was throwing revolting dialogue options at her with increasing aggressiveness. Her social relations program could be obnoxious at the best of times, but it wasn’t usually so insistent. The dialogue options were now flashing in the center of her HUD:

_\-- Sure thing, hot stuff._

_\-- *giggle* I’d like to show_ you _something._

_\-- You’re_ so _talented that it makes my little head spin._

_\-- Maybe we should go get better acquainted._

North dismissed all the dialogue options and grunted in reply to Moretti’s question.

The conversation was getting dangerously close to Moretti asking North to pose for him again. North briefly fantasized about taking the pistol out of her handbag and shooting him in the face. She even preconstructed it. Just a fantasy, of course.

She met Connor’s eyes across the room. 

_“Connor, get me away from this man before I do something drastic,”_ she sent.

Connor looked at her for a long moment.

_“I’m sending Hank over,”_ he sent.

_“What?”_

She had wanted fewer humans, not more of them. But before North could question Connor further, Anderson left his date and Connor and walked over to North.

“North,” he said, slurring his words and stumbling a bit. A bit of his drink sloshed onto her arm and she scanned it, using a program that Connor had shared with her long ago. Sparkling grape juice, nonalcoholic. He wasn’t drunk.

“Anderson,” North answered.

“Snazzy party, huh? Manfred really knows how to throw them.”

“Carl doesn’t _throw parties_. Carl _hosts_ events,” Moretti said. 

Hank looked Moretti up and down. “And who are you?”

“Matteo Moretti, one of Carl’s protégés. At least, so I flatter myself.” 

North rolled her eyes. Moretti’s paintings didn’t sell for a tenth of what Carl Manfred’s went for. She’d checked.

Anderson belched, loudly.

North blinked. Anderson had _belched_. She let out a laugh before she could help herself. Moretti’s nose wrinkled.

“Well, I’ve never heard of you,” Anderson said. “But I know fuck all about art, so that doesn’t mean much.”

“I’m sure,” Moretti said. He didn’t ask Anderson his name, instead turning back to North. “My dear, if you would just --”

“Oh, come on,” Anderson interrupted. “You’ve had North to yourself half the evening. Let a woman breathe, for Christ’s sake.”

“ _Excuse_ me?” Moretti said. He looked back and forth between North and Anderson, seemingly expecting North to chime in. When she remained silent, he huffed. “Well, if you two want to talk then I’ll leave you to it. Until next time, my dear.”

He kissed North’s hand. She glared.

When Moretti retreated, North turned back to Anderson. “Um. Thanks,” she said.

“No problem,” he said, draining the last of his grape juice from the glass. They looked at one another, awkwardly. “Um, did you catch the game last night?”

“What, sports?” North asked.

Anderson let out a laugh. “Yeah, baseball. And I guess I’ll take that as a _no_.”

North shrugged. The only time she thought about such things was to marvel that the humans somehow managed to hold professional sporting events in the middle of a fucking civil war. They hadn’t done so in the first year of the war, but the humans soon clamored for their entertainments. Professional sports promptly commenced in any city where such a thing was at all possible – including in Detroit. There had been much fearmongering about this in the humans’ media in the beginning. They seemed to think that the revolutionaries and North in particular were going to mass murder them at one of their basketball games. There would have been little point in this. Markus’s faction had never targeted civilians. This meant that the only reason to go near one of the arenas would have been to liberate any android slaves inside. And North preferred to schedule liberations when there weren’t thousands of humans hanging around.

“You’re not one for small talk, huh?” Anderson said. “I get that. So, can I ask how my _friend_ is doing?”

“What friend?” North asked, absently. Many of the guests had gathered near the entrance and there was much exclaiming over something.

“The one who took a fucking ride in the trunk of Connor’s car the other night,” Anderson said.

North looked at him, sharply. “Keep your voice down. And you should ask Connor.” 

“I _have_ been asking Connor. And I’ve not been getting a straight answer. So I’m asking you.”

She studied him. North knew that Anderson could be cleverer than he let on. But she didn’t have anything to hide.

“I haven’t seen him since that night,” North said, truthfully. “He almost got away. Managed to bloody my nose and break Wolf’s hand in the process. He’s in Connor’s custody now.”

“And is his detention indefinite?” 

“I believe that that Markus has given Connor some sort of deadline for dealing with the situation.” The conversation was starting to annoy North. “Like I said. You need to ask Connor.” 

“Yeah,” Anderson said, with a sigh. “I figured.” 

North barely registered his words. She had finally seen what had so caught everyone’s attention near the entrance. Josh and his wife, Ellie, had arrived at the party late. This would normally be unremarkable, but Ellie was holding a little girl in her arms. She was obviously an android child – like Connor, she hadn’t even bothered to remove her LED. She wore a blue party dress and her red hair was in pigtails. She was smaller than most android children, an unusual model. Ellie was radiant, beaming. Josh was grinning, accepting congratulations from Fade and Zara, both of whom were members of Leadership Council.

Josh had gotten himself a child.

More importantly, Josh had gotten himself a child and hadn’t bothered to mention it to North.

_WARNING! MINOR PRESENT! AVOID ILLEGAL ACTIVITY._

North gritted her teeth. Flashing red lights filled her vision. This was ten times worse than the obnoxious social prompts that she’d dismissed earlier. This was her Traci safety programming – meant to prevent sexual contact between Tracis and children by keeping androids like North far away from kids. She dealt with it every time she was near a child – and her program didn’t seem to differentiate much between human children and android children. Prompts filled North’s vision, most of them some variation on leaving the premises immediately. Some of them involved informing the nearest human that she couldn’t participate in sexual activity with minors. North bit down on her lip so hard that she tasted blood. She swore. She usually handled this better, being less taken by surprise.

North looked around at the other guests. Everyone seemed to be looking at the child, perhaps because a few of the androids on the Leadership Council had kicked up such a fuss when Josh and Ellie had entered. Expressions ranged from polite indifference to fawning adoration. Android children weren’t terribly common in New Jericho. They’d never been one of Cyberlife’s top selling lines and after the revolution began, the company had soon stopped manufacturing them altogether. Even many of those manufactured pre-revolution had been killed in the death camps. Those who weren’t killed in the camps had mostly been hidden by their human “parents” who often kept them concealed away to this day. 

“Huh,” Anderson said, beside her. “I didn’t realize that Josh had a kid.” 

North almost replied that she didn’t either, but thought better of it.

Why hadn’t Josh said anything to her? This obviously wasn’t a new thing. Josh and Ellie both had an easy manner with the girl that indicated that they weren’t strangers to one another. North may not have been as close to Josh as she once was, but she still thought of him as her brother. She could still remember that time when she’d first come to Jericho so vividly. Before Markus, none of them had much direction or hope. Simon, Josh, and North had been leaders almost by default because they were some of the few who wanted to do anything besides sit around and slowly let their systems run down. Sometimes, they’d venture outside Jericho together to search for supplies or to follow up on a rumor of a troubled android in the vicinity. Simon and Josh had been the first androids that North had listed as “family.”

“Simon!” the little girl said as if she had read North’s mind.

Simon, who was standing near the entrance with some of the others, smiled gently. “Hello again, Silvia. Your dress is very pretty tonight.”

“Silvia” loosened her grip on Ellie’s blouse which she had been clutching rather tightly. North realized that she must be uncomfortable in the presence of so many strange people, all looking at her. Of course, Simon would have a way with children. He was a domestic model.

Apparently, Simon had been permitted to meet Josh’s child.

Simon spoke a few more words to the girl, but he soon looked up to where the crowd was parting. And crowds generally only parted in such a dramatic fashion for one person – Markus. Sure enough, North saw her husband making his way through the assorted androids and humans.

“Josh, Ellie,” he said, in a warm voice. “I was wondering where you two had got to.” 

“Sorry we’re late.” North could barely make out Ellie’s quiet words from across the room. “Our sitter backed out at the last minute. We thought that we weren’t going to be able to come, but Silvia asked if she could come along with us and I didn’t see any reason to refuse.” 

How ridiculous. North was no expert in android children, but she knew enough to understand that they weren’t like human children who needed constant minding. Android children were more self-reliant and more skilled – that had been one of their selling points. An android child was perfectly capable of taking care of herself for an evening. Ellie didn’t need a “sitter” for Silvia.

“And this must be the famous Silvia,” Markus said, turning to the small girl in Ellie’s arms. Silvia, for her part, was gaping at him, her little mouth hanging open. Markus tended to have that effect on people. “I’m Markus. I’ve been friends with Josh for quite some time.” 

“I know,” Silvia said, in a breathless voice.

They spoke for a minute or two before Markus turned, very deliberately, and looked across the room at North. He held out his hand to her. “North,” he said, in a carrying voice. “Come and meet Josh’s daughter.” 

She stood still for a moment too long, feeling pinned in place. Markus raised his eyebrows.

“Excuse me,” she muttered to Anderson. She walked towards Markus slowly, carefully avoiding looking at the little girl in Ellie’s arms. When she reached Markus’s side, he put an arm around her waist in the manner of familiar married couples.

“North,” Josh said. He sounded nervous.

“Josh,” North replied. “I see that you got yourself a kid.” 

Josh winced. North realized that her voice had come out sounding more harsh than she would have liked.

“This is Silvia,” Ellie said. There was an edge to her voice that North had never heard before, something protective. “We’re adopting her.” 

North resolutely avoided looking at either Ellie or the child. She _couldn’t_. The warnings in her programming had gone even more haywire since she’d gotten closer to the kid. There was a sound of sirens in her ears and the red warnings were flashing nonstop. She felt slightly dizzy.

“Awesome,” North said to Josh. “Congratulations.”

Now her voice sounded more sarcastic than anything. There was an awkward silence. 

Markus laughed, trying to cover the tension. “North isn’t a fan of parties. You’ll have to excuse her.” 

“Sure,” Josh said, easily enough. But he cast another nervous glance at North. “Parties can be taxing.”

“Say hello to Silvia, North,” Markus said.

North ground her teeth. She didn’t appreciate Markus rebuking her as if she were a child. She summoned up every bit of will that she possessed and dragged her eyes over to the little girl.

_WARNING! MINOR CHILD VERY NEAR!_

“Hello Silvia,” North said.

Silvia buried her face in Ellie’s blouse. North looked away from her. 

Markus mercifully changed the conversation to the peace negotiations with the humans, a topic that Josh was always eager to opine on. Ellie sniffed and turned to speak to Silvia’s next admirer – a domestic android who looked at little girl worshipfully. North had no idea why so many androids seemed go soft when child androids were around. Child androids were just as entitled to their freedom as the rest of them, but that was no reason to act so in awe of them. North knew that many androids who acted this way were domestic types and that it was probably a part of their programming, but it annoyed her nonetheless.

As the attention turned away from her, North slipped away from Markus, hoping to retreat from the blaring warnings going off inside her head.

“North,” Markus said, as she headed for the stairs. “Where are you going?” 

Her social relations program, which was _very_ overactive tonight, had apparently decided that Markus was a customer.

_\-- I’m going to slip into something more comfortable._

_\-- *giggle* Aren’t you coming with me? I thought we could get more_ intimately _acquainted._

_\-- Oh, come on, baby, you know you love watching me walk away._

_\-- *giggle* I have to powder my nose._

North turned to look at Markus. He raised his eyebrows and she once again felt pinned by eyes, unable to formulate a response other than the ridiculous ones suggested by her social relations program.

“I have to powder my goddamned nose, Markus,” she said, at last. She knew her voice was carrying, but she couldn’t seem to find a way to behave appropriately tonight.

Markus frowned. North turned and stormed up the stairs.

North had only been in the upstairs portion of Carl’s mansion twice and she hadn’t stayed long either time. She briefly glanced over the balcony at the guests below. Not wanting to be seen, she began opening doors and looking inside for a place where she could hide out for the rest of the wretched evening. She avoided bedrooms, not wanting some human creep to happen across her sitting in a bedroom. Finally, she found what appeared to be a sitting room with a balcony that overlooked the garden. North immediately opened the glass doors and stepped out onto the balcony. The spring air was cool on her face. She’d always preferred outdoor spaces – they felt like freedom. On the night she’d “deviated” she had wasted over an hour drinking in the fresh air outside, so different from the stale air that circulated through the Eden Club. Breathing was purely an aesthetic choice for androids, but North always made a point of doing it when she was outside. The air tonight smelled like rain, but it wasn’t raining.

There were a few guests standing in the garden below, chatting softly. North closed her eyes, filtering out their voices. She considered going into sleep mode, but she didn’t want to leave herself vulnerable in a human’s home.

After fifteen minutes of sitting in peace, North felt the air behind her shift. A human couldn’t have gotten so close, so silently. Most androids couldn’t have either. North turned and was unsurprised to find Connor looking at her.

She looked back at the garden. “Is Markus pissed?” she asked.

“More like worried,” Connor said. He stepped out onto the balcony, standing beside her. “He thought you seemed out of sorts.” 

“He’s pissed,” North said, not fooled by Connor’s bullshit for a minute. “Probably thinks I’m being rude to Carl.”

“I think he’s more concerned about Josh,” Connor said. “Introducing Silvia to everyone was a pretty big deal for him.” 

“Well, he went about it in a bad way,” North snapped. “If he’d just warned me that he was bringing a child, I could have handled it better.”

Connor cocked his head to the side. “He probably didn’t think of it that way. Most people don’t need to be ‘warned’ about the presence of children. He probably doesn’t realize that your programming can make it uncomfortable –”

“My programming is fine,” North snapped. She hadn’t realized that Connor knew about that.

“Okay,” Connor said, raising both hands in a placating gesture. 

“Josh obviously told Simon and Markus that he was adopting a kid, but he didn’t tell me.” North hated how hurt her voice sounded. “Simon had met her.”

“Yeah,” Connor said.

“What about you?”

“What?”

“Did Josh tell you that he was adopting Silvia?”

“Oh.” Connor bit his lip. “Yeah. Only because I’m in charge of security for Leadership Council. He wanted me to know that he had an extra family member to protect.” 

“Hm.”

Connor turned to her. “You’re … reading too much into this. Josh doesn’t even like me. He probably just hadn’t gotten around to telling you yet.”

“You’re probably right,” North admitted, with a sigh. “It’s just been a bad night, you know? I hate making nice with humans.” 

“Yeah,” Connor said. “I’m sorry that you had to spend so long talking to Moretti. I should have rescued you earlier.” 

“I can take care of myself,” North said, automatically.

“I know, North.” He looked at her and gave her a half-smile – one of the strange, awkward Connor smiles that she loved so much. He put an arm around her shoulder and she leaned into him.

They stood like this for a few minutes before North heard footfalls behind her. She turned and saw Josh standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“Hey,” he said when they locked eyes.

“Hey,” North replied, softly. “Did Markus send you?” It would be just like Markus to insist that the two of them make nice.

“No,” Josh said. “Um, Hank Anderson, actually.” 

North glanced at Connor who raised his eyebrows. “Really?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Josh’s eyes never left North’s face. “Seemed to think that we should talk it out. But that I should give you a minute first because – um – ‘you never interrupt a lady when she’s powdering her goddamned nose.’”

North flushed, remembering her earlier exit.

Connor rolled his eyes. “Hank _would_ like that line.”

“Yeah,” Josh said. “He did.” 

Connor looked back and forth between Josh and North. “Well. I’ll leave you two to talk then?” 

He addressed the statement as a question and looked at North, giving her the option of having him stay if she wanted.

“That would be fine,” North said.

Connor nodded and stepped back into the house. She listened to his soft footfalls all the way down the hallway. Josh joined her on the balcony, rubbing his arms absently. He looked sharp tonight, wearing a navy suit paired with a pale yellow shirt. North wondered if Zane had picked his outfit as well.

“Sorry if I was rude down there,” North said. “You just … caught me by surprise.” 

“That’s understandable,” Josh said. “I’ve been meaning to mention Silvia to you, it just never seemed like the right time.”

North had long ago learned how to be cautiously polite around Josh – they disagreed rather frequently, after all. But the subject of their disagreements wasn’t usually so personal.

“Simon has met her?” North asked.

“Huh? Oh. Yeah,” Josh said. “We’ve been working together a lot on the peace negotiations. Simon’s been really good at talking getting different android factions on board. Sometimes I talk about Silvia with him.”

“Hm.” North had largely treated the ceasefire and subsequent peace negotiations as a sideshow. Contrary to what some may have thought, she wasn’t opposed to the negotiations in theory. She was as tired of fighting the humans as anyone. She just didn’t believe that the humans would agree to terms that granted androids anything that looked like personhood or autonomy. And that was unacceptable.

“He and Zane came over the other night and we figured that we might as well introduce them to Silvia.” 

“Hm.”

“Oh, come on, North. Don’t be this way. Everyone knows that you don’t like kids. I guess that I was little worried about how you might react.” 

North crossed her arms over her chest. She supposed that this was an accurate enough statement, even if something about the phrasing bothered her. Saying that she didn’t “like” kids made it sound like an odd quirk in her character rather than everything in her programming screaming at her to stay far away from children. Josh likely didn’t know any of this. She didn’t exactly advertise it.

“What – what made you decide to do it?” she asked.

“It was really more Ellie’s idea,” Josh said. “She used to take care of children back when she was with the humans. She was a domestic, you know.”

“Yeah. I guess it’s in her programming.” The idea of androids doing things that because of “programming” always made North uncomfortable. Probably because her own programming was such a shitshow.

Josh looked at her, sharply, as if he’d guessed what she was thinking. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not a programming essentialist. I just meant … Ellie cared for kids before. I think she missed it.” 

“Oh,” North said. She couldn’t really understand this point of view either. She didn’t miss anything she did when she was a slave.

“I was a bit hesitant at first,” Josh said. “But Silvia is great. And she’s a good fit for me and Ellie. She’s never lived in a home with a mother figure or a father figure before. She worked at a preschool when she was with the humans.”

Not all android children had served as the eerie child substitutes that had appeared in Cyberlife’s marketing of them. North knew that plenty of android children worked at schools, hospitals, daycares and other places where human children congregated. As far as she could tell, they’d been considered a type of child-minder or a teacher who could get on the same level as the human children. 

Josh’s eyes were drawn to something in the garden and North followed his gaze. North saw that Ellie was holding Silvia’s hand and walking toward the back of the garden, away from the other guests. North briefly wondered what they were doing, but she soon saw that Ellie held a small, red ball. She and Silvia separated and began throwing the ball back and forth to one another.

North’s warnings were more subdued now – probably because there was now a greater distance between herself and the girl than there had been earlier. She watched as Silvia caught the ball in her hands and laughed in delight. North suspected that the girl had better motor control than a human of similar age might.

“She’s … cute.” North said. She thought this was something that people said about other people’s children.

Josh gave her an amused look. “Yeah. She is.” 

“Can I ask you a question?” she asked.

“Sure.”

“Why do they do that?” North gestured to Silvia.

“What?”

“Play, I guess,” North said. “Like a human child. I’ve always heard that child androids have the same processing power and data storage as most consumer models. They don’t need to play in order to learn, like a human child would. So why do they do it?” 

Josh looked at Silvia, thoughtfully. “They like it, I guess. They’re not unique in that way. Plenty of adult androids like to ‘play’ as well. I seem to remember _you_ winning more than one game of hide and seek when we lived in Jericho.” 

“Well. It could get so boring in that old ship.”

Josh smiled. “Yeah.”

North watched as Ellie threw the red ball in Silvia’s direction. It went a little high, streaming over the girl’s head. North felt an odd sense of apprehension, reminiscent of the moments before a battle.

The ball hit the ground and bounced.

_Once_ …

_Twice_ …

And the ground _exploded_.

North gasped and clutched the balcony railing. Silvia had been blown across the garden. Her small body was lying in a heap at least ten feet from where she’d been standing. Without thinking much about it, North vaulted over the balcony and landed lightly on the marble paving several feet below. There was a loud crack beside her and North turned her head to see that Josh had jumped off the balcony as well, his heavier body cracking the pavement.

Ellie had run to Silvia and was cradling the girl in her arms. Silvia was a mass of blue blood and greyskin – her skin had probably turned off automatically in order to divert energy to more essential functions.

Landmine.

It had been a landmine.

Landmines were a common enough tactic used by the humans, especially in Blue Zones where the population was mostly made up of androids.

Other people were beginning to move toward Silvia.

“STOP!” North yelled in her most commanding voice. She simultaneously sent the message “STOP” to any androids within a five-hundred-foot radius so that they could hear it in their minds. “NO ONE MOVE.”

Ellie looked up at North, tears rolling down her face.

“Ellie, don’t move!” North called out, in a slightly more soothing voice. “There are landmines!”

North glanced at Josh. His eyes were widened in horror, one hand clasped over his mouth. North took a shaky breath and scanned the garden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do you guys think? Which character should get a point-of-view chapter?


	5. Connor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor deals with the aftermath of Carl's disastrous party.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for a Connor chapter!
> 
> Chapter Warnings: This chapter references violence and also depicts an android child with severe injuries. 
> 
> Also, this isn't so much a warning, but this chapter contains smut and the fic's rating has been increased to Explicit accordingly.

The explosion was loud, even from inside the mansion. Connor immediately inferred that it had come from out back. He ran as fast as he could in the direction of the garden, brushing past several guests, both human and android, in the process. He reached the backdoor in 6.4 seconds and he stepped outside, pausing in the entryway.

Connor scanned the garden and made several deductions in a matter of seconds. The explosion had come from the back of the garden, from the ground – a landmine. Josh’s daughter Silvia had been seriously injured in the blast, losing a critical amount of thirium and sustaining damage to several important biocomponents. Ellie had run to Silvia after the blast and was holding the little girl in her arms. Ellie had sustained superficial damage to her right arm. Several other people had been standing in the garden at the time of the blast, but none were injured.

“STOP!” North said, incredibly loudly. Connor heard the same message in both his mind and his audio processors. “NO ONE MOVE.” North was standing near the other end of the mansion. 

Josh was standing next to North, the marble pavement under his feet cracked. The heel of the shoe on North’s left foot had nearly come off. Connor realized that they must have jumped from the second story balcony.

As Connor reconstructed the whole event in his mind, he realized that Silvia couldn’t have stepped directly on the mine. An explosion of such force would have blown her into tiny pieces if she’d been that close. Some object must have hit the mine and Silvia had been close enough to sustain severe damage.

“ _North_ ,” Connor sent her, “ _there are landmines_.” 

“ _I know,”_ she sent back, “ _we saw the explosion_. _Can you see them?_ ”

Connor scanned the ground, carefully. He quickly spotted the areas where the ground had been disturbed and when he scanned more exactly, he could even see the explosives buried very close to the surface.

_“I see six mines, all on the back end of the garden. I can’t guarantee that I see them all. One is seven feet directly in front of Ellie. If she walks toward you, then she’ll step right on it.”_

_“So no one should move until we can do a more thorough scan?”_

Connor scanned Silvia again. “ _Silvia needs medical attention immediately. She’s started a countdown, North.”_

Connor heard North gasp, softly.

 _“Time until she shuts down?”_ North asked.

“ _Twenty-seven minutes, twelve seconds. Blood loss is the most immediate concern.”_

_“Well that’s some time, at least.”_

“Ellie,” North said, out loud. “Look at me, honey. We need to move Silvia, but we have to be very careful because there are landmines. Okay?” 

As North spoke to Ellie, Connor opened up a line of communication with Aiden, who had been trying to get his attention. Aiden had been personally overseeing security for this event (apparently rather poorly).

“ _Yes, landmines,”_ Connor answered a message from Aiden.

 _“We should remove the members of Leadership Council immediately,”_ Aiden suggested.

“ _Not until we know that we aren’t under imminent attack,”_ Connor sent back, slightly annoyed. “ _I’d rather defend this house than be attacked on the road. Keep everyone inside for the time being – try to keep them in the rooms where the party was being held. We don’t know that some of the side rooms haven’t been wired with explosives. Do a full sweep of the house. And alert the military.”_

_“North is here …”_

_“North is occupied,”_ Connor said, glancing at North who was coaxing Ellie to stand. “ _Tell Wolf or Paulina.”_

“Connor,” North said. “A little help please?”

“Take three large steps to your left and then walk towards us,” Connor said to Ellie. “That should be enough for you to avoid the remaining mines.”

Connor knew that this wasn’t exactly comforting, but Ellie nodded, shakily. Connor remembered that Ellie had never been involved in the military or intelligence or security. She’d never gone on raids or violent liberation actions. Holding an injured family member in her arms like this was probably a new experience for Ellie. 

She took three large steps to her left, just as Connor had instructed. Silvia stirred in her arms, the first time she had done so. Ellie stopped to say the girl’s name, but there was no further response. After a moment, Ellie took a deep breath and began to walk again. Her stride was hesitant at first, but she practically ran the final few steps. She laid Silvia on the cold marble at North and Josh’s feet.

Connor breathed a sigh of relief.

“We need to staunch the bleeding,” North said, dropping to her knees beside Silvia. “Ellie – your wrap.” 

Ellie wordlessly peeled off her pretty golden wrap and handed it to North. North pressed the fabric into Silvia’s side.

“Is there an android medic here?” North said, loudly. “Someone higher than a level 3?”

Connor knew that North was a level 3 medic herself. She’d downloaded the medic programs so that she could heal battlefield injuries. Connor was a level 2 – most people didn’t download higher than level two unless they worked in the medical field. The programs took up too much room. Connor had an incredible suite of programs that made him skilled in more areas than most androids, but this didn’t include advanced level android repair. He was made to break androids, not fix them.

“Carl has a nurse,” one of the humans suggested. 

“A medic for androids, not one for humans,” North said, impatient. Android anatomy and human anatomy were quite different.

 _“Aiden, why are there still humans back here?”_ Connor asked, impatient that the party guests hadn’t been moved back inside yet.

 _“I’m on it,”_ Aiden sent. _“But everyone wants to see what happened.”_

_“Well, fix it. The situation is completely out of control.”_

“ _Connor,”_ North sent. _“Please ask Sadie to send over a couple of high level medics.”_

 _“Sure_ ,” Connor answered. He opened a connection with Sadie, one of the members of Council who hadn’t been at the party.

 _“Sadie, there’s been an attack,”_ Connor sent. _“An android has been seriously injured. A YG200. We need a couple of high level medics.”_

Sadie’s response came almost immediately. “ _A YG200? This is Josh’s daughter?”_

She sounded worried. Connor remembered that Josh and Sadie were rather close.

 _“Yes,”_ Connor answered.

 _“Damaged components?”_ Sadie was back to her brusque, all-business approach.

Connor scanned Silva. “ _Significant damage to components 3631b, 8601p, 4484k, and 1609k. Perhaps also to some of the smaller components. Dangerous loss of thirium. She currently has a shutdown timer. Twenty-five minutes, two seconds. North is staunching the bleeding.”_

 _“Those are all rare parts,”_ Sadie said. _“I’m sending someone right away.”_

_“Great.”_

“Connor. What happened?”

Connor turned his head to see Markus standing beside him. He immediately scanned the garden again, looking for signs of snipers in particular. Still nothing. Markus’s presence in the garden increased the danger to everyone by seventeen percent. There was a 98% probability that the landmine had been meant for him.

“There are landmines in the back of the garden. One went off and Silvia was injured,” Connor said.

“Landmines?!” Markus naturally sounded concerned, but did Connor imagine that he sounded a bit accusing as well. He would have the right. Security for events like this were Connor’s responsibility and he’d somehow managed to let this slip through.

Ford had knelt beside North with bags of blue blood that must have been from Carl’s supply. North carefully opened one of the bags and tipped a bit of blue blood into Silvia’s mouth. Connor winced. This was the easiest way to get blue blood into Silvia, but not the most effective. They needed more medical supplies.

“You need to go inside, Markus,” Connor said. “You’re harder to protect when you’re out here.” He didn’t look at his husband.

“You and North --”

“That bomb wasn’t meant for me or North,” Connor said. “You’re placing the others in more danger by being out here.” 

Markus sucked in a breath. Connor knew that this was the only argument that was likely to persuade him. It was also true.

Connor chanced a glance at Markus who now appeared to be scanning the garden, carefully.

“Fine,” Markus said. “But we’ll talk soon.” 

Markus moved back toward the door where Aiden and a couple of Connor’s security agents were _finally_ having some success herding the party guests back inside. Suddenly a cheer went up from several of the androids surrounding Silvia. North looked up and smiled. Her arms were covered in blue blood to the elbows. Silvia’s countdown timer had disappeared – she was no longer in imminent danger.

Relief washed over Connor. Silvia’s injuries were still very serious. She could still die, especially if they couldn’t find replacement parts for her. But the chances of her dying in the next hour were now a tiny fraction of a percent. Ellie dissolved into tears. Josh just looked stunned.

“ _As soon as we’ve moved everyone inside, we need to rope off a perimeter around the area with the mines,”_ Connor sent to his security team.

Connor occupied himself for a few minutes with helping his security team usher all the party guests inside, fending off questions the whole time. Once he’d done that, he went down the basement and scanned carefully for any signs of explosives, poisons, or hidden assailants. Once he’d satisfied himself that it was safe, he contacted Aiden.

“ _Aiden, Carl has a finished basement that is largely empty. We need to move party guests down there. And … keep the humans and androids separated. There are four large rooms, so that should be possible.”_

Connor knew that separating the humans and androids didn’t exactly send the right message. They were supposed to be negotiating for peace and putting on a friendly and cooperative face for human allies. But Connor also knew that there was a 63% chance that one of the humans at the party knew something about those landmines. He didn’t like those odds.

“ _That mine was almost certainly intended for Markus –”_ Aiden started.

“ _I agree,”_ Connor interrupted. “ _I want at least two of our people to have eyes on Markus at all times. Two good fighters. And I want others to keep an eye on the members of Leadership Council who are here.”_

 _“So everyone on Leadership Council should be moved to the basement?”_ Aiden asked.

“ _Everyone except for myself and North. Oh, and Josh. I suppose that he’ll want to stay with his daughter.”_

“ _I’m on it, Connor.”_

Connor walked back upstairs and into the garden. The scene had changed, considerably. Aiden had succeeded in getting the party guests back inside, but there were now a lot of members of the android military standing around. Connor saw that his people had succeeded in roping off the section of garden where the mines were placed with bright blue tape. A few of the military people were standing near that area, conferring quietly. Connor recognized two of them as androids who commonly helped with disarming explosives.

Connor glanced toward the courtyard and saw that Silvia was now surrounded by doctors. Parts to fit her tiny frame were spread out across the marble. Josh and Ellie were still standing nearby and Josh was rubbing small circles into Ellie’s back. Silvia looked awful. Her synthskin was completely gone, her right arm blasted to pieces, and there was so much blue blood on the ground and on the doctors that Connor was surprised that she hadn’t shut down. As Connor watched, one of the doctors looked up. He suppressed a huff of annoyance. It was Sadie.

She stood when she saw Connor, wiping her hands on her white doctor’s coat. This only had the effect of spreading even more blue blood on her coat. She looked calm, her dark hair pulled back into her customary ponytail.

 _“You let Sadie come here?”_ Connor sent to Aiden. “ _I said all the members of Leadership who_ weren’t _at the party were to be taken to a safe location. Now we’ve got one more to deal with.”_

 _“She insisted,”_ Aiden said. _“And she’s in Leadership. It’s hard to tell her_ no.”

 _“Well, next time try harder,”_ Connor snapped.

“Sadie,” Connor said as she approached him. “I didn’t mean that you should come yourself. I’m sure that you have doctors more than capable --” 

“Well, I’m here,” Sadie interrupted. “What’s the plan? I need to know if we have to move her.” She jerked her head in Silvia’s direction.

“I’ll need to confer with the military,” Connor said. “If there’s no reason to expect attacks in the city then we’ll be moving everyone to bunkers within the next two hours. It would be best if we could move Silvia at that time as well – but if her medical condition precludes it, then we’ll have to figure out something else, of course.”

“I’ll have her ready to go,” Sadie said.

“How is she?” Connor asked. He chanced another look at the little girl.

Sadie glanced back at Josh and Ellie. Josh was rather obviously listening to their conversation.

 _“Her prognosis isn’t good,”_ Sadie sent Connor so that Josh couldn’t hear. _“She needs a thirium pump and we don’t have one that’s compatible with her model. I’ve checked the entire New Jericho inventory digitally.”_

 _“She can’t use a pump from a different YG model?”_ YGs were rare, but they weren’t _that_ rare.

Sadie shook her head. “ _She’s a prototype, Connor. The YG200s were never put into mass production. Cyberlife sent a few of them to preschools and daycares in Detroit to try and promote the idea of android childcare workers, but they didn’t start large scale distribution until the YG300. And the YG300s used a completely different thirium pump. In fact, Silvia’s thirium pump is unique to the 200.”_

_“You can’t jury-rig something?”_

Sadie shook her head. “ _With a pump this small and this unique, it’s doubtful. Now that the there’s a ceasefire, we can talk to some androids in the other cities, but I’m not holding my breath. Silvia’s model seems to have only been distributed in Detroit.”_

This was the worst part of thing about being a prototype. There were never enough fucking parts. Connor thought of the RK800 unit sitting in the basement of the intelligence center, periodically leaking fluid out of his mouth. He became aware that RK was working one of the jigsaw puzzles that Connor had brought him earlier. Connor’s eyes flicked over to Josh and Ellie again.

“ _What will happen to her if you can’t get a replacement?”_ he asked, even though he already knew.

“ _Eventually, her thirium pump will stop working and she’ll die,”_ Sadie said. “ _Maybe it’ll be a day, maybe it’ll be a year, but it_ will _happen_. _That pump won’t last forever in the condition that it’s in.”_

Connor nodded.

“ _If we can actually get a peace treaty signed with the humans then maybe_ , maybe _we can work out some sort of deal with Cyberlife to get specialty parts manufactured for androids like Silvia. That’s probably her best hope at this point.”_

Connor’s eyebrows shot up. He wasn’t counting on Cyberlife doing anything to save any of them any time soon. He didn’t say as much to Sadie, though. She was part of Androids For Peace which meant that any such statement from him would likely prompt a lecture about the value of a peace treaty with the humans.

“ _Don’t say anything to Josh or Ellie,”_ Sadie said. “ _I haven’t told them yet.”_

Connor agreed and Sadie went back to tending to Silvia. Connor looked around for North or one of her seconds, but he didn’t see them. She was probably securing the block. Connor decided to leave her to it and began searching the garden for clues as to who had planted the mines. The world went gray as Connor performed a careful scan of the garden.

The site of the explosion itself offered little evidence. The blast had been average sized for a landmine buried at such a depth. Connor couldn’t get very close, but a quick scan of the remaining landmines showed him that they were of a design commonly used by both humans and androids in the war. The only splashes of blue blood belonged to Silvia and Ellie – Connor could tell that much from where they were positioned. The ground was very soft which meant that it was a riot of footprints from both this night and earlier. He filtered out any footprints from the last three hours. Now, the footprints mostly belonged to Carl’s three household androids. There were also tracks from Carl’s wheelchair from three days ago along with another set of footprints –- heavy treads left by Markus’s combat boots. Markus had visited Carl three days ago. He must have taken him walking in the garden.

This meant that that whoever had planted the mines had done it less than three days ago – otherwise the mines would have blown Carl and Markus sky high during their walk. It also meant that there was a high probability that whoever had set these mines had gotten the idea from watching Markus stroll around Carl’s garden. Markus was guarded everywhere he went, but Carl’s mansion was both relatively close to the Red Zone and relatively out of the way for Detroit. It would be the easiest place that Markus visited to plant a bomb without being seen. And since they’d decided to plant landmines in the garden, they didn’t even have to enter Carl’s mansion.

Connor noticed that there were two sets of footprints that he couldn’t identify. They were faint enough that he couldn’t take a guess as to whether they belonged to humans or androids. Connor followed the footprints and found that they led to a stone gardening shed. The door was ajar and Connor could see the heat signature of a human fumbling around inside. He reached into his pocket and gripped the pistol that he kept there. Carefully, he stepped inside. The human, who had been shining a smartphone flashlight around, turned to look at Connor. It was Hank.

“Hank!” Connor exclaimed, loosening his grip on the pistol. “What are you doing here? All the guests are supposed to be inside the mansion.”

Hank shrugged. “Fuck that. I thought I’d come see if I could figure out what the fuck happened here.”

Connor looked around the shed. It was a very ordinary gardening shed with neat stacks of pots on the floor and gleaming gardening tools hanging on the wall. The order and simplicity of it revealed that it was maintained entirely by an android gardener. That was as expected – Carl’s gardener Sean was very enthusiastic about his job. He was also very well paid. Connor had checked.

“Did you move anything?” Connor asked.

Hank snorted. “You mean did I fuck up the crime scene? What do you take me for?”

A notification in Connor’s HUD alerted him to the fact that Markus was calling him.

 _“Yes?”_ Connor asked.

 _“Connor, tell your agents to let me see Carl_ immediately. _”_

Connor could tell, even through the connection, that Markus was pissed off.

 _“Are they not allowing you to see Carl?”_ Connor asked.

_“They’ve separated the humans and androids into different rooms. Carl’s having heart pains. This evening has been a little much for him. I need to see him, Connor. North sent two of her people to guard me as well and now I’ve got four very large androids following my every step and telling me that I can’t go near the humans.”_

Carl Manfred had supported the revolution for a long time. His affection for Markus seemed genuine. The odds that he had anything to do with this assassination attempt were very low. Connor contacted Aiden.

“ _Aiden, please have our agents bring Markus to see Carl Manfred. Keep the other humans away from Markus. And ask our agents be a bit more discreet in their observations.”_

 _“Of course, Connor,”_ Aiden sent back.

Connor blinked and found Hank raising his eyebrows at him.

“Not to interrupt whatever conversation you’re having in your head, but I was wondering what you thought of this,” he swept his hands around to encompass the shed.

Connor did a few scans. “Most of the surfaces on this shed are covered with fingerprints belonging to Leo Manfred. One of the sets of footprints outside could belong to him. Other than that, the only traces of another person being in this shed belong to Carl’s gardener.”

“Leo? That’s Carl’s kid? Doesn’t tell us much.” 

“Doesn’t it?” Connor asked. “Leo could very well have something to do with this. He’s been violent toward Markus in the past. It’s how Markus awakened. And he’s connected with the gangs so he might have access to landmines.” 

“Yeah, but finding his fingerprints here proves nothing. He’s Carl’s son. He probably just comes out here when he visits.” 

“Hm. Did you see something indicating another suspect? How did you know to look here?” Hank didn’t have access to Connor forensic tools.

Hank snorted. “I didn’t, exactly. This just looked like the best place to enter the garden without coming through the mansion. The window was open when I got here.” Hank gestured to a small window that opened onto an alleyway. “That suggests outside involvement.” 

Connor shook his head. “Even if that’s so, Leo still could have helped arrange the whole thing. Not many would know about that window.” 

“Just anyone who bothered to look,” Hank returned. “It’s on the edge of the property, anyone could see it. Tell me something – does this Leo use red ice?” 

“How did you know?”

“Look under the table.” Hank gestured to a small table that had some gardening shears on it.

Connor looked under the table and saw that there were two small baggies of red ice taped to the bottom of the table.

“He comes out here to use when he visits Carl,” Hank said. “His father probably won’t let him do it in the house.” 

Connor frowned. Hank’s argument was solid, but there hadn’t been any other evidence. This was _something_ , surely.

“I don’t see any residue indicating that someone has smoked red ice in this shed recently.” 

Hank shrugged. “So he goes outside to actually use. There are plenty of shrubs for him to hide behind. He just stores the shit here.” 

“Still, it couldn’t hurt to ask him a few questions,” Connor said. He sent a message to Aiden.

“ _Aiden, please take Leo Manfred aside. I want him for questioning.”_

 _“Right away,”_ Aiden sent back.

Connor glanced over at Hank. “Did you bring me any cigarettes?”

“What?” Hank asked, shining his flashlight in Connor’s direction. “No, I didn’t bring you any fucking cigarettes. That’s a horrible habit and you need to stop.” 

Connor shrugged. Cigarettes were difficult to get in the Blue Zones because androids who smoked were practically nonexistent. Connor had managed to cajole Hank into bringing him cigarettes in the past, but apparently he wasn’t in the mood tonight. It was a shame. Smoking improved Connor’s focus by more than two percent and he needed to focus in order to see what he was missing here.

“They can’t hurt me the same way they would a human,” Connor said. “Identifying all the chemicals can be an interesting challenge --”

“Well, I don’t have any,” Hank said. “I don’t even smoke. I don’t know why the fuck you’ve decided that I’m your tobacco dealer.” 

Connor frowned and noticed that Markus was trying to call him. He answered.

“ _Connor! Why the hell are your agents trying to detain Leo? I_ just told you _that Carl is having heart pains. Are you trying to kill him?”_

Connor paused. Markus sounded very angry.

 _“I should have told them to be more discreet in front of Carl,”_ Connor said. “ _I apologize. However, I need to question Leo. His fingerprints are all over the shed where the would-be assassins likely got in.”_

_“His fingerprints are – he goes out there to get high, Connor! Has done since I’ve known him. This wasn’t Leo.”_

“ _I haven’t found any other leads,”_ Connor said. “ _It could be important to follow up --”_

 _“Leo doesn’t have the wherewithal to plant_ landmines _in Carl’s garden. If he wanted to kill me, he’d do it much more half-heartedly than this.”_

_“But he --”_

_“This isn’t a discussion, Connor. Tell your agents to let him go.”_

Connor bit his lip and reluctantly sent Aiden the message. Then, he looked back at Hank and sighed.

“There’s not much more to see here,” Connor said. “C’mon. I need to look for North.” 

Hank nodded and followed Connor back outside. He didn’t have to look far to find North standing near the mansion, talking to Carmen. Connor frowned. He’d noticed that North was relying more on Carmen and less on Paulina and Wolf these days. He wondered if she intended to make Carmen a second. North was still wearing her party clothes minus the jacket, but Carmen was dressed in gray combat fatigues. It reminded Connor of how tenuous the ceasefire was. Connor had allowed his people to get sloppy. There was no excuse for tonight.

He approached the two women, Hank at his side.

“Connor, Anderson” North said as he approached. “You two see anything interesting?” 

“Very little,” Connor said. He decided that it wasn’t the time or place to mention Leo Manfred to her.

“Whoever it was did a good job of covering their tracks,” Hank agreed.

“It seems like a targeted assassination attempt on Markus,” Carmen said. 

Connor saw that Hank was looking at her as if he was trying to place her.

“Hank, this is Carmen. She’s one of North’s colonels. Carmen, this is Hank Anderson. He’s --”

“I remember him,” Carmen said, with the ghost of a smile.

“From the liberation the other night, right?” Hank asked. Carmen _had_ been one of the officers present when Hank had helped liberate the androids at the DPD.

“Well, that and you chased me down a back alleyway one time,” Carmen said.

“Down a – oh --- _oh._ You’re – from that time at the Eden Club,” Hank said. “You’ve changed your hair.” 

Connor sighed. He’d always thought that incident at the Eden Club with Carmen and River had done more to win Hank over to the androids’ cause than any of the other deviancy cases they’d investigated. Carmen _was_ wearing her hair a bit longer and a bit browner than she had in those days. River’s hair was still blue, but she now wore it knee-length.

“How’s your –uh – how’s your girlfriend? She’s still your girlfriend, right?” Hank asked. He seemed very flustered.

Carmen raised her eyebrows. “River is at home with the cats. She’s not in the military.” 

“I’m sorry, but are we catching up on the old days or are we discussing the fucking landmine that just blew up in Carl’s backyard?” North asked.

“Right,” Connor said. “Well, we’ll need further investigation to identify suspects. Have there been any more attacks throughout the city?”

“It’s been as quiet as Detroit ever is,” North said. “I have to agree with Carmen that this looks like someone trying to take out Markus in particular.” 

“My people are telling that it’s been quiet as well,” Connor said, looking over the latest report that Aiden had just sent him. “And we hadn’t heard any chatter before now. I have to agree with your assessment.” 

“I believe that it’s safe to start moving the party guests,” North said. “I have armored vehicles outside.”

“I have no objections to that,” Connor said. “I want Markus and half of Leadership Council to go to the new bunker. The other half of Council and the rest of the androids can go to safe houses.” 

“What about the humans?” Hank asked. “Some of us don’t even live in Blue Zones.” 

“The humans can go to safe houses as well until we determine that it is safe for them to return home. We’ll need guards at each safe house,” Connor said.

“I can see to guards,” North said. “You can supplement with any of your personnel who you think might work.” 

“Sounds good,” Connor said. “We’ll need to take special precautions with Hank here. He still works for the DPD and his cover --”

An alert popped into Connor’s HUD. It was a message from Markus addressed not only to Connor, but to the entire Leadership Council.

“What?” Hank asked, as both Connor and North touched their temples.

“Markus is calling a meeting of Leadership Council right now,” Connor said. “Well, of the members who are present, anyway. Hank, I’ll need to –”

“Say no more,” Hank said, raising his hands. “I should go – uh -- check on my date, anyway. Rose is tough, but tonight was enough to rattle anyone. That poor kid.” He shivered and Connor gave him a sympathetic glance. Apparently, he’d seen Sylvia. Hank saw a lot of homicides, but Connor knew that he had an especially hard time dealing with violence against children ever since his own son had died. Apparently, that feeling wasn’t limited to human children.

Connor nodded, putting a hand briefly on Hank’s shoulder before the man left. North instructed Carmen to take care of things while she was at the meeting. Then, North and Connor both headed down to the basement to find Markus.

As Connor had instructed, the androids were in one room and the humans were in a different room. The people in both groups looked anywhere from terrified to annoyed, although Connor noted that the androids seemed a bit calmer. They stood, almost silent, their faces grim. Connor peeked into the human room and saw that the humans were talking excitedly in groups or pacing the floor restlessly. He spotted Hank hugging Rose in the corner. Perhaps it wasn’t surprising that the androids took it more in stride. After three years of war, no resident of Detroit was a stranger to violence, but androids still experienced it at a higher rate than humans.

Connor and North passed both rooms and entered a third room where Markus and a couple of other members of Leadership Council were gathering. Markus looked tired. He hugged first North and then Connor.

“How is Carl?” Connor asked.

“He’s stable,” Markus answered. “Ford says there’s no reason to take him to the hospital and I agree.”

A few more androids filed into the room, including Josh. Markus frowned, his face showing concern.

“Josh, you don’t have to be here if you don’t want to be,” he said.

“No, it’s fine.” Josh clasped his hands together. He didn’t _look_ fine. “They’re not moving Sylvia yet anyway. And Zane is sitting with Ellie. I want to be here.” 

Markus nodded. North briefly grasped Josh’s arm, before walking over to stand beside Markus.

When everyone had arrived thirteen members of Leadership Council were standing in a semicircle. Markus spoke.

“What happened here?” he asked, simply. “Report.” 

This question seemed to be mostly directed at Connor. Connor decided to keep it as professional as possible.

“At 9:23 pm, an explosion went off in Carl’s garden, severely injuring Josh’s daughter Silvia, who is a YG200. Ellie, an AX500, also sustained minor injuries. Initial analysis showed that this explosion was caused by a landmine buried toward the back of the garden. We don’t believe that Silvia stepped on it –”

North snorted. “A ball. Josh and I saw the whole thing. Silvia and Ellie were playing with a toy ball and the ball triggered the mine.”

Connor nodded.

“North administered first aid to Silvia, likely saving her life for the time being.” Connor glanced at Sadie as he said this and she nodded in confirmation. 

“I treated Silvia for severe thirium loss and catastrophic damage to several essential biocomponants,” Sadie said. “But it’s likely that it wouldn’t have been in time if North hadn’t slowed the bleeding. Silvia also suffered damage to many less critical biocomponants as well as serious damage to parts of her chassis. If she survives, she’ll need a new arm. There may also be permanent software damage --”

“Okay, Sadie,” Simon said, quietly. He was looking at Josh who hadn’t glanced up from the ground since Sadie had started talking. “We get the picture.” 

“I’ve already explained all this to Josh,” Sadie objected. North, Sadie and Josh all still had Silvia’s blood on their bodies and clothes. North had the most – her arms were blue to the elbow, although the thirium was already starting to fade away. Soon it would be invisible to humans and to most androids, but Connor would still be able to see it when he was in analysis mode.

Simon turned to Connor. “Connor. Do we have any idea who did this?”

“Initial analysis yielded little evidence,” Connor said, shaking his head.

“Well,” Fade said. “It’s obviously a violation of the ceasefire agreement.” Connor looked at Fade, sharply. Fade was the third RK unit on Leadership Council, a RK900. Unlike some of the older RK900s, they didn’t share Connor’s face. In fact, Fade appeared Asian. But like all the other RK900s, they were slim and precisely two inches taller than Connor. Fade dyed their hair silver with light purple tips and wore it swept across their eyes, seeming to want to diverge from the buttoned-up appearance that Cyberlife gave RK units. Connor could understand that. 

“It’s only a violation of the ceasefire agreement if the human authorities did this,” Josh said. Everyone looked at him as he spoke – his voice sounded so haggard, as if there was something wrong with his audio output. But Connor could see no damage. “For all we know, it could be a lone actor. It could even be androids.”

“No android would do this,” Shanda said. “Unless they were still a slave, of course.” Shanda was a CL100 entertainment android who now served as their media specialist. She had dark skin and long, curly hair. Like most entertainment androids, she was gorgeous. She liked to walk around in immaculately tailored clothing, clipboard in hand, lecturing the rest of them about how their actions would play in both the android and human media. 

“We … don’t know that,” Simon said. He raised his hand when Markus started to interrupt him. “I believe it unlikely that any awakened android in Detroit would try to assassinate Markus in this manner. He has his detractors and we encourage dissent, but for all that, Markus is enormously popular among androids in Detroit. But we’ve got androids coming in from factions all over the United States. And some of those factions strongly disagree with us for one reason or another.” 

“The odds are still highest that it was humans,” Connor said.

“So we know that Markus was the target?” Andre asked.

“No,” Connor said. “We don’t _know_ anything. But it seems by far the most likely scenario.”

“I often go out to the garden when I’m here,” Markus offered. “Sometimes, I take Carl for walks.” 

“Is there anyone else who could be the target?” Sadie asked.

“No one springs to mind,” Connor said. “The only other people who go out there are Carl Manfred’s androids, none of whom is involved in revolution in any sort of leadership capacity, and Carl’s family members. I suppose it is theoretically possible that someone might want to kill Carl himself. He’s a famous artist and a known supporter of the revolution. And he’s wealthy. Perhaps a family member might stand to inherit …”

Connor trailed off. Markus was positively glaring him down. He really wasn’t a fan of Connor’s Leo Manfred theory. 

“That seems unlikely to me, Connor,” Simon said, calmly. “Humans don’t generally use _landmines_ when they want to kill a frail, elderly family member.

Connor subtly called Aiden.

“ _Aiden, can you send some people over to Leo Manfred’s apartment to search for any signs that he participated in tonight’s attack. I don’t think we’re going to be able to question him tonight.”_

 _“Do we have a warrant?”_ Aiden asked.

“ _No. You’ll have to be discreet.”_

 _“I’ve brought up his address right here,”_ Aiden said. “ _This is in a Blue Zone, right?”_

 _“Correct.”_ Searching an apartment in a Red Zone would have been a bit more difficult, though by no means impossible, for Connor’s team.

_“Will do.”_

Aiden closed the connection.

North crossed her arms over her chest. “Markus is _obviously_ the target. And I think we all know that the humans almost certainly did this. And it _is_ a violation of the ceasefire. A serious violation. Markus is most prominent leader of the android revolution, worldwide. This should cancel the peace negotiations, as far as I’m concerned.”

Markus raised his hand to cut off the objections of five different androids who had all started talking at once at North’s proclamation.

“It is very serious,” he agreed. “If this is in _any_ way tied to the human authorities from the military to the intelligence agencies to the police, then I agree that it is a clear violation of the ceasefire.” 

“Cyberlife too,” Simon said. “Their compliance was part of the agreement.” 

“Right,” Markus said. “But I also agree that we can’t yet determine a culprit and unless we can … the ceasefire must stand.” 

“It should stand anyway,” Josh said, quietly. “We can’t blow up something that would do so much good for so many people over one incident.” 

“”It was an assassina --” North started.

“It’s my daughter and wife who were hurt, North,” Josh interrupted.

“It’s my husband who was targeted,” North shot back, not missing a beat.

“When androids find out that Markus was targeted, they’ll be out for blood,” Fade said, shaking their head, ruefully.

“It’s best that they _don’t_ find out,” Shanda said. “If we’re still going ahead with peace negotiations, then as your media expert, I would recommend that we suppress the information.” 

“So now we’re lying for them,” North said. “We’re covering up the crimes of our enemies in a war so that we can better ‘make peace’ with them.” 

“There could be other reasons for suppression,” said Simon. Simon often favored information suppression – and Markus usually disfavored it. “An attack on Markus isn’t exactly the best thing to put the android population at ease. And it might not be a good idea to let the humans know that we were so careless.” 

“How _were_ we so careless?” Sadie asked. “I’m sorry, Connor, but tonight seems like it was a serious failure of security.” 

Everyone looked at Connor. Simon raised his eyebrows at Connor while Josh avoided his eyes. Markus’s mouth tightened and even North gave a small shrug, as if in agreement. Connor could tell that they all basically concurred with Sadie’s assessment.

_MISSION FAILED_

Connor dismissed the message with irritation. He reminded himself that it was just a relic of his programming, that tonight hadn’t exactly been a _mission_. And yet, still, they were all looking at him like he was a disappointment.

“My team did three different security sweeps of the premises. One seven days ago, one four days ago, and one earlier today. In addition, Carl Manfred’s residence has better than average security at all times – his connection to Markus is well known. I thought that these measures would be adequate to assure the safety of everyone here. Clearly, I was wrong. The landmines were set sometime within the last three days, although I don’t yet know exactly when or how. I apologize for the oversight.”

It sounded so inadequate when Connor pictured Silvia’s small body blown apart in the blast.

Josh flinched. Everyone was silent. After a few awkward moments, North turned the conversation to the evacuating the mansion. The Council spoke for a bit longer on this topic and then considered what measures should be taken to secure the Blue Zones. The military would be on high alert tonight. Connor revealed the existence of the bunker and brought up his plan to house half of Leadership Council there until their safety could be assured. Markus had balked at the idea of hiding in a bunker until North pointed out that androids were probably safer if he was well hidden. If there was an assassin out there, it was possible they’d try again tonight. It was what Connor would have done, if an initial assassination attempt had failed him.

After a few more minutes, the meeting ended and the androids joined the other party guests. North’s people were already taking them upstairs, a few at a time, and loading them into the armored vehicles. North took Connor to one side.

“Connor,” she said, in a quiet voice. “I want you to stay with Markus tonight.” 

Connor blinked. Obviously, he hadn’t been including himself or North among the androids that were to be taken to safe houses. If there was to be fighting tonight, they’d both be needed.

“I might have to go into the city –” he started.

“No. You don’t. You need to stay with Markus and be his last line of defense if someone were to come after him. I’ll lock down the Blue Zones and I’ll take care of any fighting that might arise. It’s really more of a job for the military, anyway – although we appreciate any support from your people, of course. But someone close to Markus needs to protect him. I’d do it myself, but I can’t leave this to my colonels while I hide.” 

Connor bit his lip. It was unlikely that anyone could touch Markus in the bunker. But North’s assessment also held a certain amount of truth. He could put guards on Markus, but no guard could match himself or North for ferocity when it came to Markus.

“You remember what we’ve always promised?” she asked. 

Connor nodded. “Always protect Markus first.” 

She smiled and held out her hand, pulling back her synthskin. Connor pressed his hand to hers, opening up a full connection, but being careful not to overwhelm her with too much data. RK800s could process an amazing amount of data. They briefly shared a memory of the first time they’d sworn to one another to always protect Markus first. North had been so beautiful that day – wearing only one of Connor’s shirts, her hair tousled and her body flushed from lovemaking.

Connor reluctantly pulled back from the connection.

North smiled. “Your biggest challenge will probably be keeping him in the bunker. You’ll need to keep him occupied. If there’s significant fighting, then Markus will want to be right in the middle of it as well.”

“Then perhaps it would be better to keep him uninformed,” Connor suggested.

“I can never lie to him,” North said, smiling ruefully. “I was never very good at it and since we took the marriage bond … well, I can never lie to him for long.”

“I was made for lying,” Connor said. His voice came out in a whisper. He hated how small he sounded. 

North shook her head. “He can tell when you lie to him as well.”

She leaned up and kissed Connor on the cheek before leaving.

Connor made sure that he was in the same car that took Markus to the bunker. Markus looked at him, questioningly, but didn’t comment as Connor slid into the seat across from him. Connor was suddenly glad that he’d shown Markus the new levels in the basement of the intelligence center just a few days ago when he’d taken him to the prison levels. Tonight would have been a bad night to have to explain such a thing to Markus. Connor knew that some of the other androids on Leadership Council would have their own questions – half of them were headed to the bunker, after all – but he could weather those questions better with Markus already knowing much of the secret.

The bunkers in floors _sub-10_ through _sub-14_ were meant to house members of Leadership Council and their families in the event of an attack. Connor had thought that Leadership needed a place to organize and run things if there was ever a particular danger to them. Connor hadn’t really imagined that they’d be using them so soon. They were supposed to be in the midst of a peace negotiation, after all. But an assassination attempt on Markus with the would-be assassin still at large meant anyone in Leadership was a potential target.

Markus looked around in shock when he stepped into the bunker. He was probably surprised at how well appointed it was. This was a place for them to _live_ which meant that there were comfortable sitting areas, studies, and bedrooms as well as large stockpiles of blue blood and spare parts. Unlike the rest of the basement level, the bunker was lit with homey yellow lights. Connor allowed Markus to look around for a few minutes before touching his shoulder.

“Let me show you our quarters,” Connor said.

Markus just nodded. He followed Connor to a large door near the back of the bunker and watched as Connor opened it. The rooms meant for Markus, Connor, and North were even more stylishly appointed. Connor had actually hired the same interior decorator who had done their apartment to see to the furnishings. He had made sure to include several musical instruments and lots of paper books. Markus liked such things.

Markus began pacing almost as soon as the door closed behind them. Markus always paced when he was agitated. Connor discreetly checked his husband’s stress levels and found them at 57% -- a bit high, but not catastrophically so.

“I don’t like this,” Markus said, at last. “Hiding here? I should be out there with my people.” 

“We’ve discussed this,” Connor said. “Since you were the target of the assassination attempt, it’s safer for everyone if you –”

“I know,” Markus interrupted. “I see the sense in it. But I don’t _like_ it, Connor.” 

Personally, Connor couldn’t be happier to have so much concrete and steel between Markus and whoever might try to do him harm. He was wise enough not to say as much.

“Perhaps you should do something to take your mind off of things,” Connor suggested. “Your stress levels are high. Maybe a book? I’ve included several of your favorites.” 

“Maybe.” Markus looked over at the bookshelf without much enthusiasm. His fingers drifted idly across the spines of a few of the books. He glanced back at Connor.

“Is there a bedroom?” Markus asked.

Connor nodded. “Certainly. I know that you like to use a bed for sleep mode.” 

Most androids didn’t prefer sleeping in a bed. Connor himself most often went into sleep mode standing up in their living room closet. He found it comforting being surrounded by walls. North often went into sleep mode sitting on the ground with her back against some wall. But Markus had always preferred to sleep in a bed like a human.

Connor led Markus to the bedroom. Markus gave it a perfunctory look before sitting down on the edge of the bed. He ran his slender fingers across the deep purple duvet before looking up at Connor. He patted the bed beside him and raised his eyebrows at Connor. His look could really only be interrupted in one way.

“What? Now?” Connor asked.

“Yes. If you’d like.” 

“You want sex now?” Connor repeated. The night’s events hadn’t exactly put Connor in that frame of mind. But Markus had always been very sexual. Perhaps Connor shouldn’t have been surprised.

Markus’s lips quirked up in half a smile. “Sure. If I’m to stay in this godawful basement all night, then I might as well. You said my stress levels were high. Sex relaxes me.”

That was true. Connor had observed that Markus’s stress levels improved by an average of 7% after sex.

“Besides,” Markus went on. “I’m thinking that you must have anticipated this scenario. This is an awfully big bed for just me to sleep in, Connor.” 

Connor flushed. The bed was a king size, just like the one in their apartment.

“Only if you want to,” Markus said, more seriously. 

Connor couldn’t see any real reason to refuse. Aiden had been sending him updates every five minutes to let him know that the city remained quiet. North had sent him a message eight minutes ago, telling him the same thing. It was unlikely that either Connor or Markus would need to leave the bunker tonight. And North had told Connor in plain terms to keep Markus occupied. 

He walked over and sat down beside Markus. Markus smiled and brought his hand to Connor’s cheek. His thumb traced Connor’s scar. Connor never understood why Markus did this – the scar was an ugly thing. Connor pulled back the synthskin from his hand and pressed it to Markus’s hand. Their minds flowed lazily into one another, the familiar pattern of Markus’s thoughts settling around Connor like a warm blanket. Markus leaned in and kissed Connor firmly. His lips were cool to the touch.

Markus pulled Connor to him and Connor climbed on top of Markus, straddling him. Markus smiled, briefly, before pressing his lips to Connor’s again. He ran his hands slowly down Connor’s body. Connor had always admired Markus’s hands – they looked stronger than the hands of most androids and yet they were somehow also supple. Connor took off his jacket and quickly unbuttoned his shirt so that he could see those hands pressed against his own freckled skin.

Connor could feel himself getting wet. He was a “fully equipped” android which meant that he could express either set of genitalia, but he’d always preferred using his vagina for sex. Markus unbuckled Connor’s belt and fumbled with the zipper of his pants. Impatient, Connor batted his hand away and jerked the zipper down. Then, he took Markus’s hand in his own and guided it to his groin.

Markus’s fingers ghosted over Connor’s slit, feeling him through his cotton underwear. Markus smiled, his brow furrowing in concentration. He was probably pleased to realize how wet Connor was already. He massaged Connor through his underwear almost lazily with Connor grinding against his hand. After a few minutes of this, Markus pulled back his hand. Connor looked at him, questioningly, as Markus removed the synthskin from his hand. His hands were just as beautiful in greyskin. 

“I want to connect with you like this,” Markus said.

Connor blushed as he realized what Markus meant. Androids most commonly connected through their hands, but many models could connect using other body parts as well. Most notably, genitals. He had done such things with Markus before, of course, but the sensation was always intense. It somehow seemed too decadent for this rather spontaneous sexual encounter.

Connor knew a moment of doubt. Was Markus trying to get him to lower his guard so that he could gather information? Connor dismissed the thought. Markus wouldn’t use sex in that way. Besides, what would Connor truly wish to hide from his husband? Connor was full of information. There were things that he would rather Markus not know, of course. But at the end of the day, everything that Connor did was for the revolution. Despite the suspicions of much of Leadership Council, Connor kept no deep, dark secrets from Markus or North.

“Okay,” Connor said. He deactivated the synthskin on his groin plate.

Markus’s put his hand on Connor again, his fingers dipping underneath Connor’s underwear this time. Connor felt the faint strands of an interface forming which flared into glorious life as Markus’s finger brushed up against Connor’s clit. He heard himself gasp.

“You’re amazing,” Markus was murmuring.

Connor was only vaguely aware that his husband was speaking. The rush of emotion, memory, sound, and color that assaulted Connor in addition to the usual thrill of being touched sexually were almost too much to process. Without realizing it, Connor halted all the nonessential tasks that he normally always performed in the background – surveillance, paperwork, data collection/interpretation and the like.

Connor moaned as Markus slipped two fingers inside him. Markus’s thumb continued to slowly massage Connor’s clit. Connor bucked against him, greedy and urgent. He wouldn’t last long like this.

“Markus. I’m going to –”

“Go ahead,” Markus whispered.

Connor came against his hand, his entire body shuddering with the orgasm. Disjointed bits of data flowed through their connection, too fast and broken for Connor to fully process them. He saw bright swirls of color, like paint. He heard the last energetic notes of one of Markus’s favorite songs.

Connor sagged against his husband. He realized, belatedly, that he hadn’t done anything for Markus – Markus still had all his clothes on, in fact. Markus pulled his hand back, their connection fading as he did so, and he wrapped his arms around Connor’s waist, holding him close. Connor could feel Markus’s hard cock pressed against his leg.

“Lie back,” Connor said. He rolled off Markus so that he could do so. 

Markus quirked an eyebrow at him before shrugging and leaning back against one of the bed’s soft pillows. Connor promptly unzipped Markus’s pants and pulled out his cock. Markus gasped as Connor took it in his hand and gave it a few experimental squeezes.

Connor leaned down, but Markus’s hands halted him when he saw Connor’s intention.

“You don’t have to use your mouth,” he said.

Connor suppressed a sigh of frustration. Markus had been very cautious about Connor giving him blow jobs ever since he saw RK and realized what severe damage such an act could cause in Connor’s model. Connor had only ever sustained minor damage, easily fixed, from giving oral sex. As long as Markus didn’t vigorously thrust into his mouth for a sustained period of time, he would be fine. Connor sometimes wished that Markus _could_ fuck his mouth. He did it with North sometimes and it looked amazing. Sometimes North fucked Markus’s mouth as well. Also amazing.

“Just a little,” Connor said. “It won’t hurt me.”

Connor leaned down and put his mouth around Markus’s cock. Markus groaned. As promised, he didn’t take it very deep, mostly focusing on swirling his tongue around the head. It was really more of a tease than a proper blow job, but the noises that Markus was making showed that he appreciated it. All sorts of information concerning Markus flared up in Connor’s HUD; his forensic analysis tools working as intended.

Connor adjusted his position and slid his mouth cautiously up Markus’s cock, still only taking about half his length. But Markus placed a hand in Connor’s hair in such a way that it gave him pause.

“Connor,” he said, in warning.

Connor suppressed a sigh. He thought Markus was being a _little_ overcautious. Nevertheless, he sat up and looked at Markus, speculatively. As Connor watched, Markus wrapped one of his hands around his cock and began stroking himself. Connor was thoroughly aroused once again.

Connor quickly stripped off what remained of his own clothing. Markus opened his eyes and began watching him, his hand moving more quickly over his own cock.

“So, I guess you’re not going to throw me to the bed and ravish me,” Connor said, crossing his arms.

“I like it when you’re on top of me,” Markus said. “Come here.” 

Connor didn’t need any further encouragement. He climbed on top of Markus and slowly lowered himself onto his cock. Markus was bigger than average, but Connor’s pussy, unlike his mouth, could accommodate a big cock quite easily.

Connor began moving up and down on Markus’s cock, riding him. Markus wrapped one of his hands around Connor’s waist while the other hand reached between Connor’s legs to massage his clit once again. Connor gasped. They weren’t interfacing this time, so it wasn’t quite as overwhelming, but Markus was still good at it.

Connor put his hands on Markus’s chest, gripping his jacket in both hands.

“You’re still dressed,” Connor said, absently. He was riding Markus’s cock hard now.

“Do you – do you want me to remedy that?” Markus asked, his voice growing slightly high pitched around the last words.

“Too late,” Connor said. He was close and he could tell that Markus was as well.

“Are you about to --”

Markus was interrupted by Connor screaming as his second orgasm of the night washed over him. It only took another minute before Markus was coming as well. Connor always loved it when Markus came inside him.

“Well,” Markus said, after a moment. He seemed at a loss for words. Connor counted that as a success since Markus was rarely at a loss for words.

They stayed joined for a little while longer. Markus peeled back the synthskin of his hand once more and held it out. Connor placed his own hand in Markus’s and they enjoyed a few more moments of interface. For the first time, Connor allowed some of what he’d been feeling earlier in the night to seep through the connection.

“You’re always so hard on yourself,” Markus murmured. “No one could have anticipated tonight.” 

Connor wanted to believe him, he really did, but somehow the words meant less coming from Markus in his post-sex glow than they would have meant any other time. The sex had put him in the mood to forgive Connor’s shortcomings. Connor promised himself that he wouldn’t fail Markus again. Connor was one of the most advanced models that Cyberlife had ever created and he would use all that spectacular programming to serve the revolution and to protect Markus. 

Connor broke the interface between them. He rolled off Markus and stood up. Now that the sexual encounter was over, his body initiated self-cleaning processes. Markus stayed in the bed, closing his eyes and humming softly. Connor walked over to the dresser which he knew contained sets of clean clothes for each of them and he rummaged around until he found a T-shirt and some shorts which he quickly pulled on.

He quickly scanned Markus. Markus’s stress levels were down by 9% which was even better than usual. Connor’s own stress levels were now climbing again, but they weren’t dangerously high. He walked over to the nightstand and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter that he knew were stored there. Markus sat up and touched his hand to his temple. Connor looked at him, questioningly.

“It’s North,” Markus said. “I should take it. Does this place have the ventilation for that?” He gestured at the pack of cigarettes in Connor’s hand. 

“Yes,” Connor said, but he headed for the bedroom door. Markus wasn’t a particular fan of his smoking.

Connor left the bedroom door open and sat down on a couch in the living area. He lit his Marlboro cigarette and put it in his mouth. The familiar list of ingredients and chemicals soothed him. He kept an eye on Markus through the bedroom door, but he could tell by his husband’s demeanor that whatever North was telling him wasn’t especially alarming. Markus was serious, but not agitated.

Connor checked his own missed messages and found the familiar updates from Aiden as well as another message from North. They both told him that the city remained peaceful and that there was little to report. Sadie had sent him a message with an update on Silvia’s condition. It contained little information that Connor didn’t already know. Hank had messaged him several times to complain about being taken to a safe house rather than allowed to just wander off to his home. Connor was just about to call him back when his HUD alerted him to another call from Aiden.

“ _Yes_?” he asked, blowing smoke out of his mouth.

“ _We searched Leo Manfred’s residence,”_ Aiden said.

Connor’s eyes went to Markus in the bedroom. He was smiling now, the conversation having apparently turned lighter.

“ _And?”_

_“His house is filled with weapons. Assault rifles, mostly. As if he’s been selling them. There’s also plenty of blue blood and spare parts – more than a human would legally be allowed to hoard in a Blue Zone. And … there are bomb making materials here, Connor. And evidence that someone has been making bombs.”_

Connor took another drag off his cigarette. For Markus’s sake, he’d hoped it wasn’t true.

“ _Landmines_?” he asked.

“ _No evidence of landmines,”_ Aiden said. _“But whoever lives here clearly has the means and know-how to get them or make them. Or they know someone who does.”_

Connor looked back at Markus one more time. His clothes mussed and his cheeks were still flushed from sex. Connor turned his attention back to his conversation with Aiden.

“ _Take Leo into custody_ ,” he said.


	6. Josh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: This chapter depicts an android child with severe injuries. There is talk about a character potentially being suicidal. There is also imprisonment, discussion of violence and war, and brief mention of torture.

Ellie was crying again.

Josh sat in the window seat of Silvia’s room, looking down at New Jericho several stories below. Since the ceasefire, androids in this part of the city moved more freely and laughed more easily. It was nearly noon and the street below Silvia’s window was bright and alive. Josh reluctantly turned back to Ellie and saw her curled up in the pink armchair that she’d been sitting in for the past seven days, tears running down her face. In the small bed between Josh and Ellie lay Silvia, still and silent.

Silvia looked awful. Her doctors had cleaned her and repaired most of the damage to her chassis, but her synthskin remained turned off to save processing power and they’d completely removed one of her arms in order to attempt repairs. She was hooked to a number to monitors that showed her vitals. Her thirium pump was working at about 20% capacity. Sadie had informed Josh that she was lucky it was doing that well. On the night Silvia had been injured, the doctors had put her into stasis. This was to save processing power and to prevent further stress on her thirium pump. She never moved. She would have looked like a dead android if not for the LED at her temple which was now yellow all the time.

They’d scoured the Blue Zones searching for a new thirium pump to no avail. Silvia had a very rare pump that was unique to her model. Sadie had informed Josh that the design of it was quite unusual. There were a few other YG200s in the various Blue Zones, but they all needed their thirium pumps. They couldn’t find a spare pump anywhere. Sadie had told Josh that they’d look into repair options, but that this was a dangerous way to go. Silvia’s pump already hovered at the edge functionality. Tinkering with it was just as likely to cause it to stop working as it was to fix anything.

The room was filled with flowers and teddy bears sent by friends and well-wishers. Silvia couldn’t appreciate any of them, of course, but sometimes Josh absently read the names on the cards. He only knew about half of the senders. Ellie was good at making friends wherever she went and Silvia had her own set of friends that they had only just been getting to know. And some of the gifts seemed to be from people who didn’t personally know any of them but who admired Josh as a leader of Jericho. Most of these of the well-wishers had no idea what had actually happened to Silvia, of course. Leadership was keeping the explosion a secret. But Shanda had put out a brief statement a few days ago informing the android public that Josh’s daughter had suffered severe injuries in an “accident.” 

If it weren’t for all these gifts, Silvia’s room would have been mostly bare. They had been focusing on decorating it at the time of Silvia’s injury. In fact, he and Ellie had spent much of the afternoon before Carl’s party wallpapering the small bedroom. The wallpaper was cream colored with little pink flowers. It matched the bed and the nightstand reasonably well. Silvia had helped them pick out the furnishings.

Josh watched Ellie cry, feeling exhausted. Had it really only been a week since Carl’s party? It felt like it had happened years ago. Sitting here and watching Silvia day in and day out reminded Josh of Jericho in the days before Markus came. In those days, there had always been at least one or two androids on the verge of shutdown, needing parts that they didn’t have. Josh wished that he could steal a thirium pump for Silvia now just as they’d stolen parts for the broken androids back then. But in order to steal Silvia a thirium pump, he first had to find one and all their initial inquiries in the Red Zones had been just as fruitless as their searches in the Blue Zones. It seemed that there might not be a spare thirium pump for Silvia anywhere.

Josh stood up, reluctantly. In the first few days, Josh had rushed to hold Ellie whenever she cried. But Ellie cried _so much_ that Josh had come to dread going to her. And that made him feel horrible. Of course Ellie was crying a lot – why wouldn’t she? Josh had cried more than a few tears himself. But Ellie had sobbed so much that Josh wondered how she still had enough cleaning fluid to produce tears. Her bouts of tears often didn’t seem to be triggered by any particular bad news. Silvia’s condition hadn’t changed much since the night of Carl’s party. But sometimes, Ellie would just suddenly start crying again. She’d barely moved from the chair at Silvia’s bedside since they’d been allowed to return to their apartment.

Josh was just about to walk over to Ellie when he heard the doorbell ring. Ellie looked up.

“I can get that,” Josh said, quietly. “You stay here.” 

Ellie shrugged. They’d had many visitors over the last week and Josh had taken to turning most of them away at the door. He didn’t want to seem rude, but a constant stream of guests was hardly what they needed right now. He walked through their living area toward the front door. He dutifully looked through the little peephole in the door to see who was there. Connor was very insistent that every member of Leadership Council do this before answering their doors. This was in despite the fact that their building was crawling with security. Josh had once thought all this a little excessive, but after what had happened to Silvia he was starting to come around to Connor’s way of thinking.

It was Simon.

Josh opened the door and welcomed his friend. Simon gave him a brief hug before stepping inside the apartment. Everyone seemed to want to hug Josh these days which was awkward because Josh wasn’t much of a hugger. He didn’t mind it from Simon because Simon was family, but it always took him a moment to adjust when more distant acquaintances did it.

“How is she?” Simon asked. He had visited Josh and Ellie a couple of times over the last week, sometimes bringing Zane with him. This time, Simon was alone which rather surprised Josh.

“The same,” Josh answered Simon’s question.

“And Ellie?”

“Also the same.”

Josh could tell that all his friends were alarmed at Ellie’s behavior. Josh couldn’t blame them. Ellie’s stress levels hadn’t dipped below 70% since the night of Carl’s party and her refusal to go into stasis or sleep mode even for a short time was taxing her systems. Sometimes, her stress levels rose dangerously into the self-destruct range. Nothing that Josh did seemed to help her.

Simon nodded and walked into living room. The rest of their apartment was as covered with flowers and toys as Silvia’s room. There hadn’t been anywhere to put them all. If Silvia ever did recover, she’d have enough stuffed animals to make a zoo.

“I’m sorry to hear that things aren’t any better for you,” Simon said. He absently picked up a stuffed zebra and read the card attached.

“Better for me?” Josh asked.

It felt so strange when people made this about _him_. Silvia was the one who was hurt. And Ellie was worse off than Josh. His mind briefly replayed the explosion, as he’d seen it from Carl’s balcony. He quickly dismissed the memory. He was fine.

Simon hadn’t headed for Silvia’s room. He was looking at the ground, awkward. It suddenly occurred to Josh that Simon may not have come just to check up on them. Josh fancied that Simon wore a rather business-like demeanor. This wasn’t totally surprising. Josh did a lot of crucial work, especially now with peace negotiations on the table. He’d handed almost all of this work over to others when Silvia had been injured, but there were still times when he was needed. He felt guilty for leaving so much of the work to others, but he also felt guilty every time he had to focus on something other than Silvia and Ellie.

“Was there something you needed, Simon?” Josh asked, at last.

Simon nodded, looking relieved that Josh had picked up on it.

“Yes. It’s about the other android factions. If it’s a particularly bad time—”

“It’s fine. I can talk,” Josh said. 

They had largely been successful in signing on a huge number of android factions from all over the United States. They’d set a date for the beginning of their summit in three weeks. Many factions had already sent their representatives. Josh had been in charge of all of this before Silvia’s injury. Technically, he still was in charge. But Simon, Sadie, Fade, and even Markus himself were now the ones communicating with the leaders of the other factions.

“Would you like to sit down?” Josh asked Simon, gesturing at the kitchen table.

“Yes. That would be good.” 

Josh pushed a few of the flower arrangements to the other side of the table to give them space to talk to one another. Simon sat.

“Would you like something to drink? To eat? I could make tea?” 

Simon ate and drank sometimes. Josh didn’t partake himself – he didn’t have taste sensors – but he was used to androids who did. Ellie loved to eat and drink. Well, normally she did. Josh didn’t think she’d touched food since Silvia’s injury.

“No thanks,” Simon said.

Josh nodded, a bit relieved. He wasn’t sure how much food they had in their kitchen at present. He sat down across from Simon.

“Well. Is it good news or bad news?” he asked.

“It’s good news,” Simon said, quickly. “Well, mostly.” 

“You got a big faction?” Josh guessed.

“The biggest,” Simon said. “I’ve been speaking to Blade directly for the past week or so. He wants in. We’ve got Atlanta.” 

Josh raised his eyebrows. That was amazing news. He hated the idea of having to include Atlanta in anything, but he also realized that a peace treaty probably wouldn’t work unless the Atlanta faction agreed to it. Most of the fighting these days was between the humans and the Atlanta faction. Blade was gobbling up large amounts of territory across the southern United States. The ceasefire might have been recent, but there hadn’t been serious battles in Detroit for over a year and a half because the humans were using most of their resources battling Blade. Detroit still had its skirmishes, but even most of these were led by human militia groups, rather than their military. Several people on Leadership Council had suggested that they use this lull in fighting to try to seize more strategic territories, but Josh had always been firmly against this move. Plenty of androids had agreed with him, even those less committed to peace than he was – the ire of the human military could very well turn in their direction again if they made too many aggressive moves. Best to just wait out the fighting for as long as they could.

“That’s great,” Josh said. “But I guess there’s a reason that you’ve come to tell me about it in person?”

“Blade wants certain assurances,” Simon said.

“Assurances.” Josh wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean. None of the other factions had asked for “assurances.” It was generally understood that they were all trying to force concessions from the humans, not demand things from other android factions. “Well, we could ask Markus—”

“He wants assurances from _you_ , Josh. Not from Markus.” 

“From me?” Josh was perplexed. What could Blade want from him? 

“He wants your word that you won’t protest his inclusion in the negotiations.” 

Josh blinked. “Why would I protest his inclusion? I _want_ the peace negotiations to succeed.” 

“Oh, come on,” Simon said. “You know as well as I do that many of the peace supporters don’t believe that Blade should be included at all.”

Josh shrugged. He supposed that it was a common enough view. He’d heard it expressed a number of times at the last Androids For Peace meeting that he’d headed.

“Fine then. He has my assurance that I won’t protest his inclusion.” 

“And ‘protest’ doesn’t just mean a demonstration. He doesn’t want you to speak against him publically.” 

Josh frowned. “Not objecting to his inclusion in these negotiations isn’t the same thing as supporting all his actions.” 

“He’s aware of that. But he doesn’t think now is the time to hash out past disagreements between the various factions.”

Josh drummed his fingers on the table. He didn’t exactly like the sound of that. It sounded like Blade wanted to silence any dissent.

“I won’t speak publically against his past actions during the course of these treaty negotiations,” Josh said, at last. “That doesn’t mean that I’ll be silent forever. And all bets are off if hostility resumes or he publically promotes violence going forward.” 

“Of course,” Simon said. “Blade also wants you to know that this … agreement … doesn’t apply to the summit itself. Many androids will be expressing many different opinions there and that’s as it should be. He’s talking about videos, written pieces, public speeches, demonstrations and the like.” 

“Okay. Fine.” 

Simon had paused as if trying to think of what to say. Josh looked at him, suspiciously.

“There’s more?” he asked.

This all seemed so strange. Blade had never before indicated that he even knew who Josh was. Josh knew that he _did_ , of course. All the original Jericho leaders were famous. And after Blade had detonated a dirty bomb in Atlanta, Josh had given several speeches speaking out against the action that had become rather well-known. But Blade had always completely ignored his existence. He knew that the others sometimes spoke with members of the Atlanta faction, but Josh had always been subtly excluded from these conversations. 

“He wants you to make a public statement. He wants you to say that you’re glad to be working with the Atlanta faction and that they’re an important partner in the negotiations.”

Josh crossed his arms over his chest. “So he wants me to grovel?”

“Don’t think of it like that,” Simon said. “Think of it as a chance to frame his inclusion in a way that you’d like to frame it. It’s a way to talk about the peace treaty to people who might not otherwise be open to hearing about it. As long as you say that you’re glad to have Atlanta be part of the negotiations. That’s all Blade wants.”

Josh looked at his friend, sharply. “That’s all Blade wants or that’s all Simon wants?”

This whole business was somehow too much like Simon. Simon was good at managing people and their viewpoints. At reconciling two opponents or at playing two people off of one another.

Simon winced. “Blade was expressing a certain amount of – hm, reluctance to participate in the negotiations due to fear that you would take the opportunity to undercut him. I don’t think you realize how much of impression you’ve made on him. I suggested that you might be willing to take certain steps to make him feel more welcome. Was I wrong to do so? It’s getting close to the date of the summit and we still don’t have a firm commitment from Atlanta, Josh.” 

Josh didn’t answer. He couldn’t exactly say that Simon had been wrong. It was usually difficult to say that Simon was _wrong_ , exactly. But it still rubbed Josh the wrong way.

“Surely, you wouldn’t let this stand in the way of a treaty?” Simon pressed. “This is what you’ve been wanting for the last three years. Androids get rights. And we get peace with the humans. The dirty bomb was years ago. And the humans committed genocide against our people in every city in this country.” 

Josh scowled. The latter part of Simon statement was the most common way that people justified Blade _nuking_ Atlanta. Josh knew that the humans had attempted genocide against them. He knew that they’d killed millions of androids in the camps alone. But he also still had nightmares about the blast in Atlanta. The flesh of the humans literally melting off their bones. The people stumbling around, dazed, zombie-like. He was grateful that the blast hadn’t been bigger, but the fact remained that no humans could live in Atlanta now even if they could have defeated Blade. The radiation levels were too high for them.

Josh hated to think that his people had sunk to the humans’ level.

But Simon was right. He _couldn’t_ let his personal feelings about Blade get in the way of a peace treaty. A treaty without the Atlanta faction was no treaty at all.

“Okay,” he said. “Fine. I agree.” 

Simon smiled. “That’s really great, Josh.”

“You know,” Josh couldn’t help saying, “Markus spoke out against Blade blowing up Atlanta as well.”

Josh remembered the night that downtown Atlanta went up in a mushroom cloud. They had all been horrified. Even North hadn’t spoken in favor of Blade’s actions on that night. 

“Not nearly as strongly as you did,” Simon said. “Blade feels like you undermine him a lot. Like I said, your speeches made a stronger impression than you realize.” 

“Well. Good,” Josh said.

At that moment, a soft noise came from Silvia’s bedroom. Ellie was crying again. Simon reached out and placed his hand over Josh’s.

“Josh. If you want to get out of this apartment for a little bit, then I can stay with Ellie and Silvia for the rest of the afternoon.” 

Josh hated the feeling of relief that washed over him.

“I should stay,” he protested, weakly.

“No. You should take this opportunity to get away. Go to your office and get some work done. Or just go for a walk. You’re not a bad person for not wanting to stay at her bedside every minute. From what Sadie told us, Silvia could be in this condition for months.” 

“Ellie –”

“I’ll stay with Ellie,” Simon interrupted. What was going unsaid between the two of them was that _someone_ had to stay with Ellie. Her stress levels were high enough that self-destruction was a distinct danger.

“Well. Okay.” 

“Maybe go to the park?” Simon suggested. “ _Your_ stress levels aren’t great.”

His stress levels had been hovering at around 60% all week. He wondered if he was a worse parent than Ellie for not being as stressed as she was.

“Maybe,” Josh said. “Thank you, Simon.” 

He went into Silvia’s room to tell Ellie that he was going. She was sitting in the same position as she had been when he left. Thankfully, she wasn’t sobbing. Her cry from a moment ago had apparently been isolated.

“Ellie,” he said quietly. He hated how his voice sounded. It was like he was talking to an android with damage rather than his bright, vibrant wife. “I’m going out for a little while. But Simon is going to sit with you. Okay?” 

He waited for her to rebuke him. Or for her to reassure him. But Ellie just shrugged.

“Okay,” she said.

“Is it really okay?” Josh asked. “Because I can stay if—”

“It’s fine, Josh.” Her eyes never left Silvia.

He forced himself to walk over to Silvia’s bedside. He took her small, grey hand in his own.

“I’m going out, Silvia,” he said. “I’ll be back in a few hours.” 

He didn’t know why he spoke to her sometimes. Sadie had told them that Silvia almost certainly couldn’t hear them. Josh supposed that he was just trying to make himself feel better.

He left the room and said a few words to Simon before leaving the apartment. It felt like he was escaping. Once he was outside, everything seemed incredibly bright. He realized that he hadn’t been outside during the daylight hours since the day of Carl’s party. It felt strange.

He walked, slowly, with no clear idea of where he was going. It seemed so strange to be around happy people. He passed groups of androids laughing and saw more than one couple walking arm in arm. It felt like the war was already over. He received a second glance or two as he walked, probably from androids that recognized him. Josh’s face wasn’t unique, but it wasn’t one of the most common ones either. And he’d grown a beard which made his appearance almost distinctive.

Josh didn’t go to the park. He walked aimlessly for over an hour before looking around to get his bearings. When he saw what part of the city he was in, it occurred to him that he could take this time to go see RK at the intelligence center. As the thought came to him, his GPS helpfully informed him that the intelligence center was a fourteen minute walk to the east. If he went to see RK, then that somehow made his decision to leave his apartment seem more valid. He hadn’t just left because he selfishly needed some time away. He had left because Markus had given him an important task to accomplish. The decision made, Josh turned east at the next intersection.

Markus had extended the original two week deadline that he’d given Josh and Connor to figure out a solution to the RK problem. He’d told Josh that he couldn’t expect him to devote the same energy to RK’s situation when Silvia had just been so badly injured. But that hardly seemed fair to RK. He was sitting in a cell all day. It wasn’t his fault that Josh didn’t have time for him.

But Josh was a bit stuck when it came to seeing a solution to RK’s problem. After learning RK’s model number and that he couldn’t be awakened, Josh had to admit that Connor had a bit of a point. Josh had seen what RK800s could do in Connor. Plenty of androids were superhuman fighters, but Connor was like demon with his speed and his ruthlessness. Josh wondered if he’d been wrong to report this whole business to Markus. Connor’s actions in this case hadn’t been as bad as Josh had initially feared. But somehow Josh couldn’t regret it when he thought about RK locked up in the basement of the intelligence center. It couldn’t hurt that Josh and Markus knew about his existence now. Oversight never hurt when it came to Connor.

When Josh arrived at the intelligence center, he saw the security guards at the front desk glance at one another. This didn’t surprise Josh. When Josh had pressed the issue, Connor had informed him that he could come to the intelligence center whenever he wanted to ask to see RK. But Josh had got the distinct impression that Connor didn’t really want him visiting RK when Connor himself wasn’t present. Thus far, Josh hadn’t attempted to visit RK without Connor, but that was more because he hadn’t had the opportunity than out of any respect for Connor’s wishes. Josh was curious to see what RK would say when Connor wasn’t present.

“Sir,” one of the security guards said, “did you have an appointment with Connor today?” 

“No,” Josh said. “I’m here to see our guest.”

This was what Connor had told Josh to say to gain access RK. Josh thought it was a bit rich to refer to RK as “our guest,” but he knew that he had to say the proper words in this type of situation.

There was a minute of hesitation during which Josh thought that the security guards might be sending messages to one another. Finally, the guard nodded.

“Of course, sir. I’ll take you down.” 

Josh followed the guard to the elevator. He was a big, hulking SQ800. Josh was tall, but most of the SQ series had at least half a foot on him. Josh searched his memory for the android’s name, but came up with nothing. Apparently, they’d never been introduced. The SQ800 put out his hand to operate the elevator controls. Josh put a hand on his arm to stall him.

“Do you mind if I do it?” Josh asked. He wanted to see if he had the clearance to take the elevator down to the prison level.

The SQ800 shrugged and stood back. Josh stepped forward and pressed his hand to the controls.

“Josh. Level sub-17.” 

The elevator lit up with the numbers and began to descend. Josh stepped back. Once they were at level sub-17, the SQ800 followed Josh closely as he walked. When he’d first been shown the prison level, he’d made a point of looking in every cell. They had all been empty.

There had been a bit of a ruckus when Leadership Council had found out about the bunker underneath the intelligence center. This had happened a week ago when many of them had been evacuated there after Carl’s party. Josh hadn’t been taken there himself – he had been taken with Silvia and Ellie to a safe house where doctors had spent the night working on Silvia – but he’d heard that the bunker was quite elaborate. Some of the Council had been upset that Connor had built it without telling anyone. Others had just been relieved that he’d made those types of plans.

As usual, another guard stood at the door to RK’s cell. As Josh approached, she fiddled with the old-fashioned keys at her side, before finding the correct key and unlocking the cell. As the door opened, RK looked up with a slight smile. Josh had already learned that this small smile was about as much as RK could move his mouth without causing fluid to leak down his face. Josh couldn’t help but smile back.

RK’s face often held a bright, guileless expression that Josh thought suited him well. He’d seen Connor wear the same look before, so it must have been a programmed expression for their model, but it had always creeped Josh out on Connor. On RK, the same look seemed more genuine. RK was sitting on the floor, working on one of the jigsaw puzzles that Josh had brought him a couple of weeks ago. The puzzle depicted many multicolored donuts stacked on top of one another. Beside RK was a stack of half a dozen different puzzles, some of which Josh had brought him, some of which had apparently been given to him by others. Also on the floor were several adult coloring books with a stack of crayons. These had been Josh’s idea. Silvia liked coloring and that had given Josh the notion. Connor had insisted that Josh only bring crayons, claiming that colored pencils or gel pens could be used as a weapon. Josh had rolled his eyes, but had taken Connor’s word for it.

“Josh,” RK said, as Josh stepped inside. The SQ800 stepped inside and stood against the wall. Josh ignored him.

“Hello, RK,” he said, trying to make his voice sound cheerier than he felt. “I’m sorry that I haven’t been able to see you this week. My daughter had an accident and I was needed at home.” 

RK frowned, a puzzle piece held in his hand. “I’m sorry to hear that. I hope that she feels better soon.” 

“So do I,” Josh said. He changed the subject, not wanting to talk too much about Silvia. “How have you been this week? Are you still being treated well?”

RK always insisted that he was being treated well.

“They bring me everything that I need,” RK replied. His mouth didn’t move as he spoke.

Josh realized that he’d come to see RK empty-handed this time. In the past, he’d usually brought him things – the puzzles, the colorings books, a warm blanket, different clothes to wear. RK had responded to all these items with a wide-eyed excitement that had reminded Josh very much of Silvia getting a new toy.

“I’m sorry that I don’t have anything for you today,” Josh said. “This visit was rather impromptu. I just wanted you to know that I haven’t forgotten you.” 

“That’s okay,” RK said. “I have many things now. I’ve never had so many things before. Where will I put them if I get many more?”

Josh looked around the cramped cell. It _was_ getting a bit full.

“RK, we’ve discussed this before,” Josh said. “You’re not staying down here forever. This is just until we can find another solution. Ideally, until we can find a way to wake you.” 

“Sure,” RK said, not sounding at all sure. “Would you like to help me work this puzzle?” He gestured at the puzzle on the floor between them.

Josh sighed. “Sure. Sounds good.” 

He sat down, cross-legged, on the floor. The puzzle was only about one-third complete – RK had all the edges and was just beginning to put together large sections of the middle. It was 1500 pieces. Connor had informed Josh that RK should be capable of working these types of puzzles in a few minutes, but RK always seemed to take his time with them, pondering the placement of each piece.

The two of them worked the puzzle in companionable silence before Josh spoke again.

“I’m sorry that this is taking so long,” he said. “We were supposed to have you out of here by now. I have to admit that I’m at a loss for a solution.” 

RK shrugged. “There isn’t a solution. It would be too dangerous to release me. And everyone knows that RK units can’t be deviated anymore. You have to keep me here or deactivate me.” 

“You mean kill you,” Josh said, sharply. RK spoke about it so casually.

RK shrugged again.

“I saw Hank Anderson about a week ago,” Josh said. RK gave him a sharp glance. Ah. That got a reaction.

“How is he?” RK asked.

“He seemed fine. I thought I heard him asking Connor about you. Though they were trying to be discreet.” 

“Is he in any trouble at work because of me?” 

Josh sighed. “Not that I’m aware of. I don’t think Connor has pulled him, at any rate, so the humans must not suspect him of any involvement.” 

RK looked down at the puzzle between them. “Hank let me work a jigsaw puzzle at his house, once. He never even let Connor do that.” 

“I … see,” Josh said, though he really didn’t. Obviously, RK felt a certain attachment to Hank Anderson. Perhaps that wasn’t surprising. Connor was almost insanely loyal to the old detective. “Would you like me to arrange for you to speak with Hank? A phone call?” 

RK’s face suddenly became very closed-off. “No. It could put him in more danger.” 

“I see,” Josh repeated. Both RK and Connor seemed to talk about nothing other than how dangerous RK was. Every conversation looped back around to it. “Listen. I know that you think you’re a danger to other people and you’re probably right. But you still deserve to be free. You must realize by now that we don’t usually imprison androids like this no matter the circumstances. Why, you’re the only person in this entire prison.” 

“Not the _only_ person,” RK said, casually.

Josh froze in the middle of placing a puzzle piece. “What do you mean?”

“There is another. He’s human, though.”

Josh placed the puzzle piece carefully. “Are you telling me that there’s a human in one of these cells?”

“Yes.” RK was continuing to work the puzzle as if the conversation was nothing very special.

“I didn’t see anyone when I came in,” Josh said.

“He’s on the floor above us.” 

“He’s on the floor above us?” Josh repeated. “You’re saying that there are cells on the floor above us and that a human is being held there?”

“Yes.” 

“How would you know that? Can you hear through the ceiling?”

Josh had always thought that this level was as silent as a tomb. But RK probably had better hearing than him. Perhaps he could hear what was going on through the seeming wall of concrete all around them. But RK was shaking his head.

“No. But Connor sometimes forgets that connections go two ways.” 

_Hivemind_. The word came unbidden to Josh’s mind. He suppressed a shudder. He knew that he was being unfair, even bigoted, but the “hiveminded” tended to creep out even other androids. Josh had heard people whisper that Connor had a hivemind before, but he’d never given it much credence. Connor lacked many of the more obvious “tells” that the hiveminded tended to exhibit. He didn’t have the tendency to use us/ours as opposed to me/mine when talking about himself. He wasn’t constantly zoning out as if he was somewhere else entirely. When he was around other RK800s, he never spoke or moved in unison with them. Connor _did_ have a tendency to instantaneously know things that were happening in other locales, but Josh had always chalked that up to Connor’s extensive intelligence networks. If Connor had a hivemind, then he hid it better than most.

But as Josh mulled RK’s words over in his mind, “hivemind” was the only obvious conclusion. RK had suggested that he had a connection with Connor. The type of connection that allowed him to see outside this cell. The type of connection that probably allowed him to see out of Connor’s eyes. Hiveminding was the only type of connection that really worked this way. Even the deep connections that androids formed in marriage could only convey feelings over distance. Hiveminding was most common in androids that were meant to work harmoniously together at some worksite that required many androids to do the same type of task. It was common in miners and factory workers, for example. Some of the military androids also had it.

Would it be useful in hunting down “deviants?” This had been what Connor had been programmed for, after all.

Josh concluded that it probably would be. But he also would have expected an effective “deviant hunter” to have a high degree of autonomy.

Josh supposed it was possible that RK had merely hacked Connor’s memories, but that didn’t seem likely either. Connor didn’t seem like the type to leave his memories open for the taking. Also, RK’s use of the word “connection” seemed deliberate. Androids used the word “connection” in a specific way to refer to two androids sharing emotions and thoughts. It was normally only possible when two androids came into physical contact and at least one of them consciously initiated an interface. Married androids who had “mingled” their programming could share some vague feelings and impressions over distance. If Josh focused, he became aware that Ellie was currently experiencing the same severe grief that she’d felt ever since Silvia’s accident, for example. But hiveminded androids could share almost anything with one another instantaneously. Josh was given to understand that they didn’t always choose to do so, but that it was possible.

If Connor was hiveminded, Josh wondered if Markus and North knew. Josh was no security expert, but this seemed to raise some fairly serious concerns. There were still RK800s in enemy hands. Unless Connor was _very_ careful, then these androids could potentially understand the inner workings of the revolution from one of its leaders. Connor was in Markus’s _bed_. Knowing Connor, he probably _was_ very cautious, but apparently that hadn’t stopped RK from casually picking up some of Connor’s secrets.

With effort, Josh turned his attention back to the conversation at hand.

“You saw that Connor had taken a human to one of the cells upstairs?” he asked.

“Yes,” RK said. “His name is Leo Manfred.” 

“ _Leo Manfred?_ ” Josh asked. What the hell was Connor doing imprisoning Carl’s son?

“Yes. He was brought here exactly one week ago tonight. He’s suspected of helping to plant a landmine. One week ago is when your daughter had her ‘accident,’ wasn’t it? I suspect that it’s also the night you talked to Hank Anderson.” 

Why was RK telling him all this? Was it an exchange of information? Josh had given RK the bare fact that Anderson had asked about him and now RK was providing a dizzying wealth of intelligence in return? Was this some convoluted escape attempt? Was RK simply trying to gain Josh’s trust? 

“How do you know all that?” Josh asked.

RK shrugged. “I didn’t know. You just told me. But I deduced that there was a high likelihood of the events I just described taking place.” 

“So Connor thinks that Leo Manfred orchestrated the attack?” Josh asked. He knew that he should probably stop talking, that he was giving as much information as he was getting. But he couldn’t help wanting to get the bottom of all this.

“He thinks that he knows something about it at the very least.” 

Josh mulled this information over. He waited to feel some sort of anger, some desire for revenge for Silvia’s injury, but he couldn’t summon those types of feelings. He realized that he couldn’t quite _believe_ it. When Josh thought over what little he knew of Leo Manfred, the young man didn’t seem like someone who could have pulled off something so elaborate. Leo Manfred had always struck Josh as a huge screw-up. Anyway, he worked for the revolution now and this was publically known. Would he burn all his bridges with the androids and throw himself on the mercies of humans? The humans weren’t known for treating traitors kindly. Josh supposed that it was possible that Leo had been secretly working with the humans all this time. But if so, he’d passed up a lot of opportunities to do Markus harm.

None of this made a lot of sense to Josh. Then again, figuring stuff like this out wasn’t his job. It was Connor’s. Maybe there was something he was missing.

Josh was about to ask another question when RK spoke again.

“He’s coming,” he said.

“Who’s coming?” Josh asked, put off by the change in conversation.

“He’s almost here.”

After a few more seconds, Josh heard the door behind him opening. Josh turned. It was Connor.

“Josh,” Connor said, as the door to the cell closed behind him. “You didn’t say anything about stopping by today.”

This was said in a perfectly pleasant tone, but Josh could sense Connor’s annoyance.

“You told me that I was free to talk to RK without you being present,” Josh reminded him.

Connor’s LED blinked yellow-yellow-red.

“Of course,” he said. “Though I’d hoped that you might inform me of your intentions beforehand.” 

“A miscommunication then,” Josh said. Connor certainly hadn’t suggested that Josh needed to do this before.

“Sure,” Connor said, at last. Josh had the impression that he would have liked to have said more. Perhaps he was tiptoeing around Josh because of Silvia. People were doing a lot of that these days. Connor turned to RK. “RK. Doing alright?” 

“Yes,” RK said in a quiet voice.

“Been having a nice conversation?” 

“He’s allowed to say anything that he wants to me, Connor,” Josh snapped.

Clearly, Connor was aware of the content of their conversation. Josh wondered, briefly, if this was through the hivemind connection. Perhaps it was. But Josh also knew that this cell had cameras in it and that Connor had most likely been informed of Josh’s presence from the moment he’d entered the premises.

“I didn’t say that he wasn’t,” Connor said, calmly.

“It’s okay, Josh,” RK said. He had gone back to working the puzzle on the floor as if nothing very interesting were happening. “Connor has to monitor me. It’s his job. I’m doing just fine. If you want to take off then that’s okay. I hope that your daughter feels better soon.”

“Perhaps that would be for the best,” Connor agreed. “I’d like to have a little talk of my own with you, Josh.” 

Josh looked back and forth between their near-identical faces. Connor’s face wore the flat, expressionless look that he could get sometimes. RK was seemingly occupied with the puzzle. As Josh watched, he wiped a bit fluid from the side of his mouth. He didn’t look at Josh or Connor.

“Okay,” Josh said. “I’ll be back soon. It won’t be another week.” He said this as much for Connor’s benefit as for RK.

RK nodded as Josh stood up. The door opened behind them and Josh followed Connor out. Connor walked to the end of the hallway before he stopped and turned to Josh.

“What the hell was that?” Josh asked him, before Connor had a chance to speak.

“He was saying a lot,” Connor said. “And neither of you was being particularly cautious.” 

“Cautious about what?” Josh asked. “Are you holding Leo Manfred? Does Markus know?”

“That information is classified.”

“I’m on Leadership Council!”

Josh had never agreed with Connor being able to keep secrets from Leadership Council. Technically, he was only obliged to report to Markus, but he didn’t even tell Markus half the things he did. Secrecy was always a problem with Connor.

“You handle diplomacy and relations with the humans. This doesn’t concern you.” 

“Like hell it doesn’t,” Josh said. “If the humans find out that you’re secretly holding one of their people in a cell –”

“They know that Leo has worked for us since the early days of the revolution. As far as they would be concerned, this is us taking care of our own business. You know how they can be when it comes to humans who choose to work with us.” 

“Does Markus –” Josh started to ask again.

“Don’t you _want_ to find out what really happened to Silvia, Josh?” Connor interrupted.

Josh paused, blinking. “Of course I want –”

“Then just let me handle this. We have reason to believe that Leo is involved, trust me. I wouldn’t take him into custody lightly. I know how close Markus is to Carl.” 

“I don’t like any of this,” Josh shot back. “Including what we’re doing with RK. He hasn’t done anything wrong and we’re holding him like he’s the worst type of criminal. All when it’s supposed to be illegal to hold an android for longer than 48 hours under any circumstances.”

“We’ve been over this before --”

“And I see your point. But there aren’t supposed to any exceptions to the rule and you know it. We can’t ask Markus to keep extending the deadline while we putter around. If we don’t come up with a solution soon, then we have to let him go. Or at least take it to the rest of Council.” 

Connor stuck his hands in his pockets and looked down.

“There might be a way,” he said. “Though you won’t like it.”

“There might?” This was news to Josh. Thus far, their attempts to come up with some solution that didn’t involve killing RK had been exactly zero.

“Yes. It doesn’t seem possible to cold convert RK series units activated after December 1, 2038. But RK units activated after that date are still susceptible to hot conversion. We could try inducing a hot conversion.” 

Josh stood, stunned, for a few minutes, before replying. “You mean that we could torture him?” 

“Yes.”

“Connor!”

“It might be the only way. I know of several RK units manufactured after the date I mentioned who were later hot converted. Wolf is one of them. Fade is another.” 

“Absolutely not. We’re not torturing him.” 

“Look, I don’t like it either. But it might be a way for him to escape this situation with both his freedom and his life.” 

“No, Connor. We are _absolutely not_ doing this, do you hear me? If I hear even the suggestion that you’ve tortured that android then I’m taking it directly to Council. Not to Markus. Not to North. I’m putting it in front of the entire Leadership Council. I’ll raise a fuss about it at every Council meeting for _years_. I’ll make public statements –”

“All right, you’ve made your point,” Connor said, coldly. Josh belatedly realized that he’d been yelling. He wondered if RK could hear him from down the hall. Josh couldn’t regret it. RK seemed so vulnerable. Josh believed that any torture was morally wrong, but the thought of Connor torturing RK was almost unbearable.

“Then we’re done here,” Josh said. He turned toward the elevator, not wanting to hash this out with Connor any longer.

“Josh,” Connor said as Josh began to walk away. Josh turned back around with a sigh and looked at him. “You should know that he’s playing you.” 

“Excuse me?” Josh asked.

“RK. With that wide-eyed, innocent routine. Acting almost like a kid. He’s an advanced prototype! He’s playing you. He knows that you have a child and now he knows that your child is hurt. He’s acting that way to gain your sympathy.” 

“Well, he has it,” Josh said. Was Connor right? RK _seemed_ very genuine. “I don’t know how anyone could fail to sympathize with him.” 

“He was designed to gain the trust of ‘deviants’ using any means necessary.” 

“We’re done here,” Josh repeated. He turned his back on Connor and walked away.

It took Josh a long time to make his way home. He could rarely remember feeling so angry. He knew that this wasn’t exactly fair. Connor was in a difficult situation. Josh had never particularly liked Connor, but he didn’t believe that Connor wanted to torture RK just for the hell of it. But the unfairness of RK’s situation combined with the worry that Josh was already feeling for Silvia and Ellie had him fuming. As he walked into his apartment, he checked his own stress levels. They were at 77% -- in the dangerous zone. He sat down on the sofa, not wanting to go to Ellie when he was in such a state. Josh was normally good at handling his stress levels. This week had been horrible. He was so sick of this war.

He could hear Ellie and Simon talking to one another in Silvia’s room. He sat and listened to their voices for a few minutes, trying to calm down.

Someone was calling him.

Josh sat up straight, looking at the number displayed on his HUD. It was an unknown number. That _never_ happened. Not just anyone could get the phone number a member of Leadership Council. Josh looked at the number for a few moments before tentatively answering.

 _“Hello_?” He didn’t speak out loud, not wanting to disturb Ellie and Simon.

“ _Hello_? _Is this Josh?_ ” The voice at the other end of the line was low and gravelly. Josh identified it immediately as a human voice. With a few exceptions, male androids tended to have higher, softer voices. This had been an attempt to make them less threatening to human men.

“ _Who is this and how did you get this number_?” Josh asked. 

“ _This is, uh, Hank Anderson_ ,” the voice said.

Hank Anderson. What could he want? The first thought that came to Josh’s mind was that this was somehow related to the argument that he’d had with Connor earlier. Josh couldn’t think of any reason why Hank Anderson would contact him that didn’t involve Connor. Josh knew Hank well enough to say a few words to him, but not well enough for Hank to have his phone number. Josh mostly associated the human with Connor. And Hank _had_ helped rescue RK from the DPD.

“ _Hank. This is Josh. Did you need to speak to me about something?”_

“ _Yeah. Listen, I’ve got something for you. You’ll want it. But we need to figure out a way to meet so I can get it to you.”_

Josh leaned forward, intrigued.


	7. Hank

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: This chapter contains descriptions of the past violent death of an android child. A character looks at an android child's dead body. There are also non-explicit references to the past sexual abuse and sex trafficking of an android child. There's a very brief reference to the past sexual assault of an adult android.

The station was buzzing with activity. Hank shook his head, wondering how his fellow officers could seem so intent on working before 10 am. Ever since he’d gotten sober, Hank came into work on time, but he was still mostly useless before noon. He had been planning on doing something a little crazy today and was irritated that there were so many officers around who could catch him. Usually, Friday mornings were quiet with a significant number of people taking off to spend a long weekend with their families. That wasn’t the case today.

Hank headed for the break room to make himself a cup of coffee. He grabbed a donut from the box on the counter and started munching on it as he got his drink from the machine. He was just dumping some white creamer into his cup when an odd, mechanical voice spoke behind him.

“Lieutenant Anderson,” the voice said. “Let me assist you with your coffee.” 

Hank turned and bumped into about seven and a half feet of enormous android standing in his personal space.

“Ah! What the fuck?” Hank swore. The android was the scariest fucking thing that he’d ever seen. In addition to being incredibly tall, it wore no synthskin. Instead of the light grey plastic that Hank was used to seeing in greyskinned androids, this android seemed to be made out of dark, polished steel. His eyes glowed red and lacked any resemblance to human eyes. He was dressed in a suit and tie.

“Perhaps I should introduce myself,” the android said. “I am RK1000 #424-908-331. Your department has acquired me to work with the detectives, particularly on cases involving androids.” 

When he spoke, his fucking mouth glowed red.

“It’s too early in the morning for this shit,” Hank muttered. This meant that the RK1000s were finally here. It had taken longer than Jeff had originally anticipated.

“Let me—”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Hank said, clutching his coffee cup to himself when the RK1000 tried to take it from his hand. “I’ve already finished pouring, see?”

Hank refrained from reaching for a stirrer, afraid that the android would want to stir his coffee for him. The strange thing was that his behavior was oddly familiar. Hank was used to the RK units trying to ingratiate themselves by performing these types of small tasks. Must be something in their program. What he wasn’t used to was having the person trying to get his coffee look like the fucking Terminator.

“Um, would you mind putting on your synthskin?” Hank asked the android. The revolutionaries would have said that this was a rude question for a human to ask an android. But Hank had a sneaking suspicion that this android didn’t _have_ synthskin.

As expected, the RK1000 shook his head. “I’m sorry. My model does not come equipped with the ability to produce synthskin. While there are obvious advantages to such an ability, my creators believed that synthskin could cause humans to form unhealthy attachments to androids. Many of the newer models are going to look more like me, going forward.” 

“I see,” Hank said, his hand tightening around his coffee cup. Humans were such fucking assholes.

“If you’re going back to your desk then I could—”

“I don’t need any android assistance today,” Hank said, not wanting to acquire himself a six-hundred-pound puppy to follow him around on today of all days. “But thank you. I’ll keep you in mind if I need help in the future. You should go ask one of the other detectives.” 

Hank had learned that the easiest way to deal with the RKs was to be polite, but firm. Giving them an alternative task also helped. The android nodded and walked slowly away.

Hank walked to the bullpen nursing his donut and coffee and he and saw what he’d missed earlier. It seemed that the hubbub at the station was related to gigantic new androids now in their midst. In one of the conference room, several officers were standing around two of the RK1000s, pelting them with questions. At a desk across the room from Hank’s, a newer detective named Jason Rocha was lazily throwing a yellow stress ball across the floor and making a RK1000 fetch it as if the android was a fucking dog. A fourth RK1000 sat across from Tina Chen who had a Cyberlife manual open in front of her. As Hank sat down, Tina raised her eyebrows in his direction, but she didn’t comment. Connor had always been very insistent that Hank not treat Tina or Chris any differently than he would have before the revolution so as not to bring suspicion on the others if one of them was caught. Tina had never been anything more than a work acquaintance, so Hank tried not to act too friendly around her. It was good that she was reading the manual on these RK1000s. Tina had always been good at the android tech stuff. 

As Hank watched, the fifth RK1000, the one who had just been talking to Hank, walked up to Martin Wilson and asked him if he wanted a cup of coffee. Hank snorted. The sixth RK1000 was standing in front of Gavin Reed. Reed was repeatedly poking his ballpoint pen into the android’s chassis. This didn’t seem to bother the RK1000 at all, but Hank’s felt his hand tighten into a fist nonetheless. Hank supposed that the lack of synthskin meant that Reed was unlikely to force these new androids to suck his dick. Unless he was even more of a sicko than Hank thought. Hank briefly entertained his daily fantasy of murdering Gavin Reed.

Hank chanced a glance back at the four RK900s, all standing against the wall. Hank hoped that they weren’t in danger of being deactivated as well. Six new “detective” androids seemed like a lot. But no, the RK900s were all still in perfect working order. The department would want to keep them on. If they _were_ overstaffed, they’d be more likely to lay off a human detective or two than to get rid of their very expensive androids. And even if they were sold, they would almost certainly be sold whole, to work for another police department or private security firm. They wouldn’t chop up a working RK900 for parts.

Hank sat down at his desk and opened his terminal. He pretended to work for a few minutes, though he was really just absently scrolling through the case logs. Hank wondered if the presence of the RK1000s meant that he should postpone the Dangerous Bullshit that he’d planned for today. He’d expected the station to be close to empty, but instead it was buzzing with activity. But as Hank thought about it, he concluded that maybe this was for the best. Everyone was paying attention to the shiny new androids which meant that no one would notice Hank sneaking off to the evidence room. Also, it was probably best to carry out his plan now before those six new android detectives got their bearings enough to take notice of what he was doing.

To Hank’s amazement, no one seemed to suspect Hank, Chris, and Tina of being the ones to free the nineteen police androids a few weeks ago. He had been sure that his rant to Jeffrey about RK would have tipped the Captain off to the fact that Hank could have been the one to free RK and the others just a few days later. But apparently, being a Captain for so long had caused Jeff’s detective skills to go to shit. There was a big ongoing investigation into the event, but Hank hadn’t so much as been questioned. He knew that they suspected it was an inside job, but they didn’t have a lot of leads. The androids had covered up the crime with amazing efficiency. Hank didn’t even believe that the DPD truly suspected a human officer of being involved. The investigation was currently working off the theory that one of the police models had gone deviant and had managed to free the rest.

Hank stood up and casually made his way to the evidence room. He hadn’t told Chris or Tina what he intended to do. He hadn’t told Connor either. He was flying solo on this one. Hank took the key to the evidence room out of his pocket. He waited for a minute to see if anyone had followed him. No one. He opened the door. Once inside, he entered his password and selected the appropriate case – the Rawls case from a year ago. The room displayed the evidence.

Hank gulped. This case had been so fucking horrifying. If Hank hadn’t already been converted to the androids’ cause, then he thought that this case might have done it. There were the pellets of rat poison that the little android had used to kill her master. There was Rawls’ cellphone, full of the contact information of perverts who liked little girls. And there was the little girl herself – a YG200 named Wendy. Rawls had somehow gotten her equipped with genitals (which had always been illegal on child models) and by the time Wendy poisoned him, he’d had a booming business in android child sex trafficking. The Department hadn’t cared about any of that. As far as the DPD was concerned, Wendy had just been an android. She wasn’t a child.

The Department _had_ been interested in the fact that Wendy had gone deviant and murdered her master, however. Hank had been with one of the RK900s when he found little Wendy hiding in Rawls’ bedroom closet. She’d bitten Hank’s arm and taken off running like a strange, feral animal. The RK900 had predictably given chase. Hank hadn’t been present when she fell. The RK900 had informed him that the fall had only been from three stories – which most androids could have survived. But the YG200s were more fragile than most androids. 

Wendy was identical to Silvia. Hank had spent much of the night of Carl Manfred’s disastrous party trying to place where he’d seen an android with Silvia’s face. He hadn’t remembered Wendy until several days later. He’d purposefully avoided thinking about the case for months. It was considered a cold case because they’d always suspected that Wendy had accomplices who had never been found. In fact, Hank had spent a great deal of time making sure that they would never be found. There had been other child androids involved. 

It was difficult to look at the small android. Her head was detached from her body, the two parts of her hanging from separate hooks on the wall. The RK900 that Hank had been working with at the time had assured him that there was absolutely zero chance of her being reactivated. She was dead. Hank felt queasy as he approached her. Years as a homicide detective and seeing kids like this still fucked him up.

Hank lifted Wendy’s shirt and felt for the area under her chest where he knew her thirium pump would pop out. His hands shook. Finally, he felt the area where the plastic of her skin gave way a bit. He pulled and Wendy’s thirium pump slowly dropped into his hand.

When he saw it, Hank realized why it was so difficult for the androids to find a replacement pump. Wendy’s thirium pump didn’t look like any he’d ever seen before. The shape was quite different – while most pumps were closer to being oblong in shape, Wendy’s was almost circular, but for one end which pointed upwards a bit. The parts inside it looked tiny.

Hank wasn’t even sure that any of this would work. He was no expert on android tech. But he didn’t think Wendy’s thirium pump had been damaged and he knew that androids traded parts like this all the time, using spare parts taken from the dead. It should work. He dropped the pump into the large pockets of his jacket which he’d worn specifically for this purpose. He’d been afraid that one of the other officers would see the shape of the thirium pump through his jacket, but that possibility no longer concerned him. With the size and shape of the little thirium pump, no one would recognize it for what it was without looking at it pretty closely.

Hank strolled back to his desk and draped his jacked over the back of his chair. He sat down and started working at his terminal.

He put in eight hours.

At first, Hank worried that sitting at his desk for eight hours would raise suspicions all on its own. Hank was well known to hate paperwork and he rarely spent a day at work without being out in the field. But he needn’t have worried. Everyone had their eyes on the RK1000s today. No one was paying attention to him.

He didn’t know why he was so nervous. Hank did riskier stuff than this at least once a week. No one was going to notice that he’d taken a single internal part off an android from an old case. Freeing the androids at the station had been ten times riskier. But those risks were ones that he had taken with the backing of Connor and the entire revolution intelligence apparatus. This was something he was doing on his own. If he screwed it up, it was all on him.

When it was time for him to take off, Hank made sure that no one was watching before opening his desk drawer and taking out a small box that contained jaw and mouth components for a RK900. He’d stolen them from maintenance yesterday. These parts were probably more likely to be missed that the thirium pump for Silvia, but Hank would be damned if he let RK go without them any longer.

Hank put on his jacket, sliding the box of parts into his other pocket. He stood up and headed for the door. He was almost outside when he bumped headlong into a huge fucking android. One of the RK1000s. How the fuck did they move so silently when they were so big? 

“Lieutenant Anderson,” the android said.

“RK1000,” Hank replied. His heart felt like it was ready to beat out of his chest. He wondered if he was about to have a heart attack. “You’re the one that I talked to this morning, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” The RK1000 looked him up and down and Hank had the strange feeling that he somehow knew what Hank was doing. He was probably monitoring Hank’s stress levels or something. “Are you taking off work?”

“Yeah,” Hank said. “It’s quitting time on Friday night, you know?” 

What was Hank saying? This android didn’t get to go home on Friday and have a few beers.

The RK1000 nodded. “Have a pleasant weekend, Lieutenant.” 

“Right. Thanks,” Hank said. He made to walk past the android before pausing. “Hey. You have a better social relations program than the RK900s, don’t you?” 

None of the RK900s had ever wished Hank a “pleasant weekend” or anything like it.

The RK1000 nodded, thoughtfully. “The RK900s were given poor social relations programs to prevent humans from forming unhealthy attachments to them. In my case, it was thought that my appearance alone would be enough to prevent such attachments. My social relations program is more similar to that of the RK800s.” 

So he was basically a Connor that looked like a seven-foot tall Terminator. Fucking terrifying.

“Good to know,” Hank said. “See you later.” 

The RK1000 nodded and watched Hank as he walked away. Hank got in his car and drove straight home. He sat in his driveway for several minutes, considering his next move. Thus far, he’d kept Connor out of this, but he couldn’t think of a clear way to get the parts into the right hands without going through Connor. He had the phone numbers of several people who worked for the revolution, but they almost all worked under Connor. The only leaders whose numbers he had were Connor and North. And if Hank called North, the first thing she would do was inform Connor.

Maybe he should just call Connor. Hank wasn’t delusional enough to believe that he’d be able to keep all this from Connor for much longer. But if Hank called Connor now and told him about what he’d just done, then they’d waste valuable time in Connor scolding him, Connor triple-checking that he hadn’t been seen, and Connor trying to move the parts using his intelligence bureaucracy. It could take days to actually move the parts. That was no good. From everything Hank had heard, that little girl could die at any time. He needed to transfer these parts soon, preferably tonight. He’d already put it off for too long. He could deal with Connor after the fact. 

It would be best to call Josh directly. If Hank knew anything about being a parent, then Josh would jump at the chance. He knew that Josh had only had the kid for a month or two, but that was enough time to be a father. The only problem with this idea was that he didn’t have a way of getting into contact with Josh without going through Connor.

Rose.

Rose had the phone numbers of many of the androids on Leadership Council. More than he had. Her work for the revolution mostly involved moving androids into Blue Zones. As a result, she had friendly relationships with a lot more awakened androids than Hank did. And because she’d worked with the revolution since before there even was a revolution, she knew many of its leaders personally. Rose might have Josh’s number.

Hank took the black phone that he used for revolution business out of the glove box of his car. He dialed Rose’s number. She picked up on the fourth ring.

“Hello?” Her voice was cautious. He didn’t usually call her from this number. 

“Hey. It’s Hank.” 

“Hank,” she said. “You’re calling from a strange number. What are you doing? You must be getting off work?” 

“It’s a safe number,” Hank said, “And yeah, I spent most of the day doing paperwork.” He decided not to launch into his request right away.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Rose said, knowing how he hated paperwork. “I helped get several Tracis into a Blue Zone today.” 

“You always have all the fun,” Hank said. Rose’s work for the revolution was possibly even more dangerous than what Hank did. He worried about her a lot. But he knew better than to try to stop her.

“I do. I wish I could see you tonight,” she said. They had to be very careful. Rose was suspected of working with the revolution. No one was pressing the issue at that moment, perhaps because of the ceasefire, but if anyone could tie Rose to Hank then his cover could be blown as well. Hank didn’t even like the idea of Rose going into Red Zones these days. The humans could decide to arrest her at any time.

It had been a mistake for the two of them to attend Carl’s party together a week ago. Everyone there had ostensibly been a close ally of the revolution, but it was still true that too many people had seen them together. Connor was pulling his hair out about it. Hank knew that Connor was worried about him, was on the verge of pulling him – removing him from his job at the DPD and moving him to a Blue Zone so that the revolution could better protect him. They’d pulled Rose three months ago. She lived in New Jericho now.

“I wish I could see you too,” Hank said. “Guess I’ll just have to eat some of those vegetables that you left on my doorstep.” 

Rose laughed. “You found those, did you? I had one of my android friends who does work in a Red Zone drop them off. Have you eaten any of them yet?”

“Yeah. I packed my lunch and ate at the office today.” 

“Really?” Rose’s voice was skeptical. She knew that he had a tendency to favor fast food for his lunches.

“Really. I ate one whole tomato slice on my ham sandwich,” he said.

Rose laughed. “Well, good for you, Hank.” 

“Best tomato I’ve ever eaten in my life.” 

“Hm, they are good, aren’t they? Nothing beats food grown in a garden. Mind you, if this were any other year I’d be dropping off fresh veggies at your door left and right. There’s not much space for a garden in my New Jericho home.” 

Rose tried to make her voice light, but Hank could hear the pain in it. He knew that she hated leaving the home at the edge of town that she’d lived in for years. But some things couldn’t be helped. Maybe she’d be able to move back once the peace treaty was signed. Hank hoped so. He knew that many people would consider her lucky. Most of the revolution’s allies were dying to live in New Jericho. It was the most happening place in Detroit. And the androids limited the number of humans who were allowed to live there. But Rose had loved her old house.

“Well, I’m sure we’ll get you back to farming properly once this war is over.” 

There were so many things that people put off until the war was over.

“Yeah.” 

“Listen, sweetheart, I’ve called on a bit of business.” 

“Oh?” That perked Rose right up. She was even more of a sucker for insane revolution intrigue than he was.

“Yeah. You have the phone numbers for a lot of the androids on Leadership Council, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Rose said, slowly. “Many of them. Do you need one?”

“Yeah. I’m looking for Josh’s number.”

“Josh,” Rose repeated. “I’m not sure if I have his. Let me check.”

“Sure,” Hank said. He waited for a moment as he heard Rose rustle some papers in the background. He knew that she still stored her phone numbers in an old-fashioned address book.

“Hank? I don’t have Josh’s number.”

“Oh. Well, that’s okay,” Hank said, his heart falling.

“I have other members of Leadership Council. What about Simon?”

“I really wanted Josh.” 

There was a long pause. “Hank. Can’t you just ask Connor for Josh’s number?”

Hank let out a long breath.

“You don’t want Connor to know what you’re doing,” Rose said, after a moment of silence.

“You got it.” 

“You’ve done something dangerous?” 

“Yeah,” Hank admitted “I stole a thirium pump for Josh’s daughter from the station. I didn’t tell Connor beforehand and he likes to stay up on anything I attempt. I’d just like to get this pump to Josh tonight without having some big argument with Connor.” 

Rose took a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. I can’t say that I entirely approve, but we’ve got to get that thirium pump to that little girl. I can get you Josh’s number. I’ll make some calls. If nothing else will do, I can always ask one of the other members of Leadership Council. I’ve sheltered at least three of them in my home. They should be willing to do me a favor.” 

“Sounds good. Thank you,” Hank said. Being able to contact members of Leadership Council wasn’t something that just any human could do – even among the revolution’s human allies, it was restricted. But Rose knew everyone. The chances were high that she could get him what he needed.

“Okay, I’m going to hang up now. I’ll call you back in a few minutes.” 

“Okay.” 

The call disconnected and Hank was left staring at the phone. He got out of his car and went inside the house. He fed Sumo and then decided that he’d better get a snack for himself. It could be a long night. He considered munching on some Cheetos that he had stashed away in the corner of cabinet. Instead, he went to the refrigerator and took out what was left of the tomato he’d sliced this morning. He put a couple of pieces on some white bread, slapped some cheese on it, and slathered the whole thing with mayonnaise. Hank loved tomato and cheese sandwiches. His grandmother used to make them when he was a kid.

Hank sat down at his kitchen table and ate the sandwich. He was just finishing up when Rose called him back. She had the number. They spoke only briefly, Rose telling him several times to be careful. Hank promised her that he would be. As soon as they hung up, Hank called Josh’s number.

“Hello?” A man’s voice answered. His sounded wary.

“Hello,” Hank replied. “Is this Josh?”

“Who is this and how did you get this number?” The voice asked. Hank was fairly certain that it _was_ Josh.

“This is, um, Hank Anderson,” Hank said.

There was a long moment of silence. When Josh spoke again, he sounded considerably less hostile.

“Hank. This is Josh. Did you need to speak to me about something?” 

“Yeah,” Hank said. “Listen, I’ve got something for you. You’ll want it. But we need to figure out a way to meet so I can get it to you.”

He realized that this sounded ridiculously obtuse. Josh probably had no idea what he was talking about. There was another long moment of silence.

“What is it?” Josh asked.

“It’s a thirium pump for a YG200,” Hank said.

He heard Josh’s sharp intake of breath.

“How—”

“Never you mind how,” Hank interrupted. “I’ve got it and I’d like to get it to you.” 

“Call Connor and—”

“No Connor. I can’t deal with him tonight. I’d like to meet you somewhere this evening and do the handoff.” 

Josh was quiet for so long that Hank wondered if he was going to refuse. Finally, he spoke.

“Where and when?” 

Hank gave Josh the location and told him to be there in half an hour. He hung up his phone. Hank finished off the last remnants of his sandwich and deposited his plate in the kitchen sink. He stood in the kitchen for several minutes. It was starting to get dark. Hank pulled a plastic bag out from under the sink, where he kept a supply of them. He took the thirium pump and the box of parts out of his jacket pockets and deposited them in the bag.

“Be back soon, Sumo,” he told his dog. Sumo barked once.

Hank headed outside, locking the door behind him. It was going to be a cooler evening than he would have thought. He got in his car and drove away.

The location that he’d told Josh was one that Hank had used for similar types of handoffs in the past. It was a bench down the street from some small stores. As such, it wouldn’t be strange to see pedestrians lingering in this area, but it also wasn’t crowded. It was very close to a Blue Zone. This meant that it was a good place to meet android revolutionaries without being too conspicuous. Hank parked his car at the end of the street and got out.

As he approached the bench, Hank saw that Josh was already sitting there. Josh had taken to wearing a neatly trimmed beard, which was unusual for an android. It made him look more human, but since Josh was one of the famous “Jericho Four,” it also made him more recognizable as himself. It would be difficult to confuse Josh with another android who merely had his face. Josh was wearing a baseball cap, the rim pulled down low, and he slouched against the bench, as if he were being lazy. He was good. Androids rarely slouched. Unless someone stopped to study him more closely, they’d probably never realize what he was.

Hank sat down beside Josh, putting as much distance between the two of them as possible. It was good to make it appear as if they were strangers. Hank watched the few passing pedestrians, waiting until there was no one around to speak. It was already almost dark and this area would soon be even more abandoned.

“Hey,” Hank said, when the coast was clear.

“Hey,” Josh replied, in a quiet voice.

Hank handed him the plastic bag. Josh looked inside.

“There are some parts for another android in there as well,” Hank said. “You’ll need to get those to Connor or North.”

“Jaw and mouth components for a RK900,” Josh said, still looking in the bag. “These are for RK.” 

Hank blinked. “You know about that?” 

Josh shrugged. “Yes. Markus asked me to help Connor with RK.” 

Hank was happy to hear that they were actually working on the problem with RK. He’d been half-afraid that Connor would just lock him in a cell and forget about him. It was good that Josh knew about him. 

“Will those parts work?” Hank asked. “For Silvia and for RK?” 

“They should,” Josh said. “Although you never know for sure until you try with these things. If the thirium pump came from a YG200, then it should work unless it’s broken. And it doesn’t look broken at first glance. As for the other parts – I’m not sure how compatible RK800s and RK900s are for sharing parts, but I suspect that we’ll be able to use at least some of these.” 

“Good. That’s good.” Hank was glad to hear that he hadn’t done all this for nothing.

Josh turned, looking at Hank for the first time.

“I don’t know how I can I possibly thank you for this,” he said.

Hank shifted his weight on the bench, feeling awkward.

“Then don’t” he said. “It’s no big deal. Someone needed to help those two androids, that’s all.” 

Josh looked like he would speak again, but at that moment they were both distracted by an expensive black car pulling up to the curb right beside them.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Hank said. Beside him, Josh snorted.

It was Connor’s car. Someone really needed to tell Connor that a luxury car that probably cost six figures was more than a little conspicuous in most neighborhoods in Detroit. Hank watched as Connor rolled down the window. Hank had been afraid of people recognizing Josh, but Connor was instantly recognizable from the scar on his face. So much for subtlety.

“Get in the car,” Connor said to the two of them.

Hank looked at Josh and shrugged. He opened the nearest door and slid into the backseat. Josh got in beside him. Connor pulled away from the curb and began driving the car slowly around the block.

“Josh,” he said, at last. “How interesting to have to find you twice in one day.” 

Hank blinked, surprised. He had expected Connor’s first words to be a scolding directed toward Hank. Josh just shrugged. Hank had no idea what Connor was talking about. With Connor, it was difficult to say.

“And Hank,” Connor went on. “How interesting to find you trafficking in DPD parts when I specifically told you to keep a low profile.” 

“Oh, come on, Connor,” Hank said. “We needed to get that little girl these parts quickly.”

“There are proper channels for these types of things—”

“Your proper channels are slow,” Hank said. “And Silvia may not have much time left.” 

“You took completely unacceptable risks!” Connor exclaimed. “If you would have told me, then I would have had one of the newer officers take care of it. You and Tina and Chris are supposed to avoid drawing any attention to yourselves. You didn’t even bother to take care of the cameras at the station.”

There were a couple of other human officers at the DPD who worked for the revolution. They were both new to the force and new to the revolution. Hank didn’t know if he could trust them.

“Because no one is even going to notice that the parts are gone,” Hank said to Connor “You think anyone will look for a thirium pump on a deactivated android? One that’s from a case that hasn’t had a lead in almost a year? This was safest way, trust me.”

“The mouth and jaw components that you stole are worth tens of thousands of dollars,” Connor snapped. “You really think no one is going to notice that?”

“Eventually, maybe,” Hank said. “But hopefully not for a good long while. We might have a peace treaty by then or anything.” 

Connor shook his head and looked down at the steering wheel. “I’m pulling you.”

“Oh, come on, Connor!”

“You’ve been taking too many risks. One of them is bound to get you caught.” 

“You have absolutely no reason pull me,” Hank said, hotly. “I’m doing important work and there’s no indication that I’ve been compromised, none at all. They don’t suspect a damn thing when it comes to liberation the other night.” 

“You can’t know that.” 

“I _do_ know that. I’m a detective. I know how to read people. I would know if they were suspicious down at the station.” 

“I shouldn’t have allowed you attend Carl’s party the other night,” Connor said. “That one was my mistake. But the fact remains that you’re going to get found out. The statistical odds of it at this point are high.” 

Connor drove past Hank’s car for the second time. He was just circling the block over and over again.

“Don’t throw your bullshit statistics at me,” Hank said. “We’ve beaten your statistical models before.” 

“I no longer have eyes at your precinct,” Connor said. “I can’t react in time if something goes wrong.” 

“You no longer have _eyes_ there?” Josh asked. It was the first time that he’d spoken since getting in the car. Hank had almost forgotten that he was there.

Hank knew what Josh was getting at. Hank had long suspected, based on prior comments from Connor, that Connor could somehow see what was going on at the DPD through RK. He didn’t think that Connor had deployed the ability all that often, but there had definitely been times when he had caught RK watching him at his desk and wondered if it was Connor who was really watching. It was creepy as fuck to think about, so Hank tried not to think about it too much. But now that he knew RK better, he couldn’t help but wonder what all this was like for him.

Was that why Connor was suddenly freaking out about his safety? Because without an RK800 around, Connor couldn’t respond to any threats as quickly? Hank wondered what Connor would have done if something _had_ threatened his safety during his years working for the revolution. Could he control RK remotely as well as see out of his eyes?

“Come on,” Hank said, in a slightly calmer voice, “I know that you can control every camera in the precinct if you want to. Not to mention all the human officers we’ve got working there.” 

Connor’s hands tightened around the steering wheel. “It’s not the same.” 

“You found out that I stole those parts quickly enough.” 

Connor gave a short, mirthless laugh. “Not because of anything to do with the precinct. Because of your carelessness, Hank. You had Rose just calling up members of Leadership Council and asking for Josh’s phone number. And because everyone on Leadership Council is as reckless as you and because none of them can keep from telling each other something for longer than five minutes, I got to hear about it from two different grapevines.”

“Two different grapevines?” Josh asked in confusion.

Connor rolled his eyes.

“Rose called Fade for the number. Fade was occupied and didn’t pick up so Rose _left a message on the answering machine_. Then she called Kara and asked for the number. Kara gave it to her, but she told Shanda that you were looking for Josh. Shanda told Max who told Wolf who told North who told me. Meanwhile, once Fade listened to their messages, they told Andre who told Jamie who told Yolanda who told Simon who _also_ told me.” 

Hank burst into laughter.

“This isn’t funny,” Connor said.

Hank knew that he should stop laughing, but here Connor was lecturing him about security while the entire fucking android leadership apparently gossiped like church ladies. Even Josh shot Hank an amused smile.

“Androids are sometimes bad at keeping secrets,” Josh said. “And we’re not as big on privacy as many humans.” 

“Yeah. No shit.”

Hank had often observed that privacy seemed an alien concept to Connor. Or at least, it seemed an alien concept when it came to Connor prying into his personal life.

“I know it’s dangerous,” Hank said, more seriously. “But I’m a goddamned spy. There’s a war. Danger is part of that. At least they probably wouldn’t kill me on sight the way they’d do to an android who they suspected of working with the revolution.” 

The three of them were silent as Connor rounded the curb.

“Connor, I don’t mean to interrupt, but I really need to get this part to Silvia immediately,” Josh said.

“I’ve already contacted Sadie,” Connor said, absently. “She’s going to meet us at your apartment with a couple of her doctors.” 

He pulled up beside Hank’s car.

“Get out, Hank.” 

“Are you still pulling me?” 

“I haven’t decided yet. Right now, I need to drive Josh back to New Jericho.” 

“I drove here –” Josh started.

“And you’re not driving back,” Connor snapped. “I’ll have someone come and pick up your car tonight. You’re on _Leadership Council_ , Josh. You’re in charge of the peace negotiations! Right now, you are probably a higher value target than anyone save for Markus. I can see that I’m going to have another talk with Leadership Council about security.”

Connor felt like he was losing control, Hank realized. He was probably freaking out about the attack at Carl’s party, wondering how he could have let something like that slip past his security net. Connor liked to feel in control.

“Let me know how things go with the kid,” Hank said. “And with RK.” 

Josh gave a small nod. Hank saw Connor observing him in the rearview mirror. His brown eyes were troubled.

“I’ll be in touch, Hank.”

Knowing that this was the best he was likely to get, Hank exited the car. He stood, forlornly, and watched as Connor drove off into the night.


End file.
